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THE  CASTAWAYS 


THE  CASTAWAYS 


BY 
W.   W.   JACOBS 


McKINLAY,  STONE  &  MACKENZIE 
NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1916,  by 
INTERNATIONAL  MAGAZINE  CO. 


Copyright,  1917,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  January,  1917 
Reprinted  February,  May,  1917 


Stack 
Annex 


THE   CASTAWAYS 


The  Castaways 

CHAPTER  I 

MR.  WILLIAM  POPE  closed  his  ledger 
with  a  slam  and,  slipping  from  his  stool, 
locked  the  drawer  of  his  desk  and  re- 
turned the  key  to  his  pocket.  It  was  just  one 
o'clock,  and  there  was  an  ebb  and  flow  of  clerks 
returning  from,  and  going  to,  lunch.  It  had  been 
an  everyday  scene  to  Mr.  Pope  for  thirty  years; 
he  looked  forward  to  another  ten  and  then  a 
pension,  which  he  fondly  hoped  to  enjoy  for  thirty 
more.  He  walked  slowly  across  the  big  room  and, 
putting  his  head  round  a  glass  and  mahogany  screen, 
eyed  with  clerkly  disapproval  the  industry  of  a  man 
working  there. 

"One  o'clock,  Carstairs,"  he  said  sharply. 

Mr.  Carstairs  turned  a  lean,  clean-shaven  face 
on  his  friend  and  smiled  amiably. 

"Just  coming,"  he  said,  blotting  his  work.  "I 
had  no  idea  it  was  so  late." 

Mr.  Pope  grunted.     "I  should  know  it  in  the 

3 


The  Castaways 

dark,"  he  declared,  "without  a  watch.  I  believe 
you  like  work,  Carstairs." 

The  other  shook  his  head.  "Just  a  habit,"  he 
said  slowly.  "There's  not  much  to  like  about  it. 
Come  along,  before  you  faint." 

He  led  the  way  out  of  the  bank  into  the  crowded, 
sunlit  street,  and,  seizing  an  opportunity,  darted 
across  the  road.  Mr.  Pope,  with  a  finer  sense  of 
his  dignity,  waited  until  the  traffic  was  held  up,  and 
crossed  ponderously. 

"One  of  these  days "  he  began. 

"I  know,"  said  his  friend,  "but  I  feel  like  a  boy 
to-day.  Twenty-five  years  dropped  from  my  shoul- 
ders this  morning  and  left  me  a  boy  of  twenty." 

"Pity  the  grey  hairs  didn't  drop  too,"  remarked 
Mr.  Pope. 

"One  thing  at  a  time,"  said  the  other.  "And, 
after  all,  I  haven't  got  many." 

He  stopped  at  the  entrance  to  the  Beech  Tree, 
and,  pushing  through  the  swing-doors,  led  the  way 
up  to  the  dining-room,  and  to  the  end  table  they 
usually  occupied.  Mr.  Pope  seated  himself  with 
a  sigh  of  content,  and,  placing  a  pair  of  gold-rimmed 
pince-nez  across  his  nose,  studied  the  menu. 

"Plate  of  mulligatawny,"  he  said  slowly,  "boiled 
silverside,  tankard  of  bitter." 

He  ate  his  meal  with  enjoyment,  and  then,  light- 

4 


The  Castaways 

ing  a  cigar  and  ordering  coffee,  disposed  himself 
for  conversation.  Carstairs,  who  had  eaten  but 
little,  answered  in  such  an  abstracted  fashion  that 
Mr.  Pope,  in  a  fit  of  pique,  closed  his  mouth  with 
his  cigar  and  lapsed  into  silence. 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Carstairs,  turning,  with  a  slight 
laugh.      "I  was  thinking." 

"Think  away,"  said  his  friend  coldly. 

"Thinking  of  the  many  times  I  have  eaten  in 
this  place,"  said  Carstairs.  "Day  after  day,  year 
after  year.     It  has  all  passed  like  a  dream." 

"Best  way  for  a  lunch  to  pass,"  said  Pope,  with 
feeling.     "If  you  had  poor  Hall's  digestion " 

"I  mean  the  whole  thing,"  said  Carstairs.  "The 
morning  train,  the  day's  work.  For  twenty-five 
years,  rain  or  shine,  I  have  been  shut  up  in  that 
office  taking  care  of  other  people's  money.  Now 
I  am  my  own  master.  I  can  stay  in  bed  all  day, 
or  go  to  the  North  Pole  if  I  like." 

Mr.  Pope  took  his  cigar  from  his  mouth  and 
regarded  him  thoughtfully.  "You  had  better  stay 
in  bed  all  day,"  he  said  at  length.  "Or  perhaps 
two  or  three  days  would  be  better." 

"This  is  my  last  day  at  the  office,"  said  Car- 
stairs.    "I  can  hardly  realise  it." 

"Don't  try  to,"  said  Pope  anxiously. 

"To-morrow  morning  I  shall  go  birds'-nesting." 

5 


The  Castaways 

"What — in  October?"  stammered  the  unhappy 
Pope. 

"Or  a  motor  run,"  said  Carstairs,  hiding  a  smile. 
"If  it's  a  day  like  this  it  will  be  splendid.  I'll  ask 
for  a  day's  leave  for  you.  I  bought  a  ripping  car 
yesterday." 

Mr.  Pope  stifled  a  groan.  "We  had  better  be 
getting  back,"  he  said,  rising. 

"Back!"  said  the  other.  "Why,  we  have  got 
twenty-five  minutes  yet.  Sit  down  and  discuss  where 
we  shall  go.  You  needn't  be  alarmed;  I  am  not 
going  to  drive.  What  do  you  say  to  Brighton? 
Run  down  to  lunch,  spend  a  couple  of  hours  by 
the  sparkling  sea,  and  then  home  to  dinner  and 
a  theatre." 

Mr.  Pope  turned  and  looked  long  and  hard  at 
his  friend.  "Look  here,  Carstairs,"  he  said  at 
last,  "do  you  know  what  you  are  talking  about?" 

"About  a  motor  run,"  said  the  other. 

"In  your  own  car?"  pursued  Pope. 

Carstairs  nodded. 

"Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"Bought  it." 

Mr.  Pope  sighed,  but  pursued  his  cross-examina- 
tion.    "How  much?" 

"Nine  hundred  and  twenty-five  pounds,"  was  the 
reply. 

6 


The  Castaways 

There  was  a  long  pause,  during  which  Mr.  Pope 
tried  hard  to  get  his  voice  under  control. 

"Where  did  you  get  the  money?"  he  asked  at 
last,  in  fairly  even  tones. 

"Ah,  now  you're  getting  to  business,"  said  Car- 
stairs,  smiling  broadly.  "It  was  left  to  me  by  an 
uncle  I  haven't  seen  since  I  was  ten.  He  went  to 
Australia  sheep-shearing.  Judging  by  the  amount 
I'm  rather  afraid  he  must  have  been  shearing  his 
fellow  men  as  well." 

Pope,  still  looking  doubtful,  cleared  his  throat. 

"Much?"  he  inquired. 

Carstairs  nodded.  "I'm  afraid  to  tell  you  the 
amount,"  he  said  quietly.  "You  might  ask  rae  to 
go  and  see  a  doctor." 

"How  much?"  demanded  the  other. 

"Or  fall  oil  your  chair." 

"How  much?"  repeated  the  other  severely. 

"We  don't  know  exactly,"  said  Carstairs,  fum- 
bling in  his  pocket,  "but  in  this  letter  from  my 
lawyers  they  say  about  thirty  thousand  a  year." 

Conversation  in  the  room  was  suspended  until 
the  echoes  of  Mr.  Pope's  exclamation  had  died 
away.  With  a  trembling  hand  he  took  the  letter 
and  read  it,  and  then  for  the  first  time  in  many 
years  he  had  a  glass  of  water  with  his  lunch. 
After  which  he  congratulated  Mr.  Carstairs. 

7 


The  Castaways 

"But  you've  known  this  some  time,"  he  said  re- 
proachfully. 

"About  three  weeks,"  said  Carstairs.  "But  I 
wanted  to  be  absolutely  certain  before  I  said  any- 
thing about  it." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  all?"  de- 
manded the  amazed  Pope. 

Carstairs  pretended  to  consider.  "I  shall  keep 
a  few  fowls,  I  think,"  he  said  at  last,  "and  the 
motor." 

Mr.  Pope  shook  his  head  gloomily.  "It'll  be 
thrown  away  on  you,"  he  said.  "You  never  have 
had  any  idea  of  real  enjoyment.  You'd  have  been 
much  better  off  if  the  old  man  had  left  you  five 
hundred  a  year.     You've  got  simple  tastes." 

"Simple  things  cost  the  most,  I  believe,"  said 
Carstairs.  "My  car  doesn't  make  nearly  such  an 
important  noise  as  a  second-hand  one  at  fifty  pounds. 
A  ten-guinea  suit  of  clothes  escapes  observation, 
whereas  one  at  twenty-five  shillings  attracts  atten- 
tion wherever  it  goes." 

Mr.  Pope,  who  was  not  listening,  raised  his  finger 
for  the  waiter.  "Two  glasses  of  the  best  and  oldest 
port  you've  got.  I  want  to  see  what  it  feels  like 
to  stand  treat  to  a  man  with  thirty  thousand  a 
year,"  he  said,  after  the  waiter  had  departed. 
"You'll  drop  all  your  old  friends  now." 

8 


The  Castaways 

"Of  course,"  said  Carstairs  simply.  "I  shall 
begin  with  you — after  I  have  drunk  the  port." 

Mr.  Pope  clinked  glasses,  and  then  with  a  gentle 
sigh  sipped  his  wine. 

"You'll  have  to  be  careful,"  he  said,  after  a 
long  silence.  "There  are  heaps  of  people  who  will 
be  anxious  to  help  you  spend  that  money.  You're 
too  easy-going  by  half  to  be  trusted  with  it.  I  can 
see  you  investing  it  in  all  sorts  of  wild-cat  schemes, 
not  because  you  believe  in  them,  but  because  you 
will  be  unable  to  say  'No.'  " 

"Perhaps  you're  right,"  said  Carstairs. 

"I'm  certain  of  it,"  said  his  friend  vehemently. 
"You've  got  no  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  you 
have  a  trust  in  human  nature  that  I  can  only  de- 
scribe as  child-like.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you 
lost  everything  youVe  got  in  five  years." 

"I  reckoned  ten,"  said  Carstairs,  "but  I  dare  say 
you  are  nearer  the  mark.  However,  I  will  relieve 
your  mind  by  telling  you  that  I  am  taking  measures 
to  prevent  it.  I  am  engaging  a  man  to  look  after 
my  affairs,  and  if  I  crack  up  in  a  few  years  he  will 
be  responsible.  I  shall  practically  leave  things  in 
his  hands." 

"Leave  things  in  his  hands?"  gasped  the  amazed 
Pope.     "And  suppose  he  lets  you  down?" 

"He  won't,"  said  Carstairs. 


The  Castaways 

The  other  looked  at  him  with  unaffected  con- 
cern. "Don't  do  it,"  he  said  earnestly.  "Don't 
do  it." 

"I  must,"  said  Carstairs.  "I  can't  be  bothered 
with  business  matters.  I  might  as  well  stay  on  at 
the  bank.     It's  no  use,  Pope,  I'm  quite  determined." 

"You  must  be  crazy,"  said  Pope  at  last.  "What 
do  you  know  about  him?  How  long  have  you 
known  him?" 

"Long  enough  to  know  he  is  all  right,"  said  the 
other.     "But  you  know  him  better  than  I  do." 

"I !"  said  Pope,  starting.  "I  don't  know  any- 
body I'd  trust  to  that  extent.     Who  is  it?" 

"His  name  is  William  Pope,"  said  Carstairs. 

Mr.  Pope's  expression  changed  suddenly,  and 
his  mouth  broke  into  tremulous  smiles.  Then  his 
face  began  to  harden  again. 

"It's  no  use,"  said  Carstairs,  who  had  been 
watching  him  closely.  "It's  a  favour  to  myself. 
You've  got  a  very  clear  head  for  business,  and  a 
stronger  way  of  dealing  with  people  than  I  have." 

Mr.  Pope  shook  his  head. 

"And  you  know  what  things  are  better  than  I 
do,"  pursued  Carstairs.  "You  can  help  me  to  keep 
my  end  up.  There's  an  air  about  you,  Pope,  that 
I  haven't  got.  I  want  some  of  your  moral  support. 
I  want  you  to  tell  my  lies  for  me,  and  intervene 

10 


The  Castaways 

between  myself  and  people  who  want  to  help  me 
spend  my  money." 

"If  you  put  it  that  way "  began  the  other, 

wavering. 

"It's  the  only  way  to  put  it,"  said  Carstairs. 
"It's  a  pure  matter  of  business;  friendship  doesn't 
count  at  all.  We'll  have  a  contract  drawn  up  by 
my  solicitors  all  shipshape  and  proper,  and  then  I 
shall  be  able  to  enjoy  my  money  while  you  have 
all  the  trouble  of  it." 

Pope  turned  in  his  chair  and  extended  his  hand. 

"That's  settled,"  said  Carstairs,  "and  I'm  will- 
ing to  give  you  the  pleasure  again  of  paying  for 
a  wealthy  friend's  port  to  celebrate  it." 

Mr.  Pope  held  up  to  the  waiter  a  beckoning  finger 
that  seemed  to  have  increased  in  size  and  impor- 
tance since  the  last  order.  He  turned  an  eye  on 
a  clock  that  no  longer  had  any  message  for  him, 
and,  raising  his  glass,  toasted  "Our  very  good 
healths." 

The  return  to  the  office  was  effected  without 
hurry.  Haste  was  all  very  well  for  men  whose 
horizon  was  bounded  by  streets  and  the  regular 
performance  of  mechanical  duties;  free  men  with 
the  pleasant  places  of  the  world  before  them  could 
afford  to  take  their  time.  In  front  of  the  very 
entrance   of  the  bank,  Mr.  Pope,  pleasantly  con- 

ii 


The  Castaways 

scious  of  being  twenty-five  minutes  late,  loitered  to 
purchase  a  buttonhole.  His  appearance  was  so 
dignified  that  the  colleague  who  had  been  impa- 
tiently awaiting  his  return  in  order  to  go  to  his 
own  lunch  ventured  on  no  greater  reproach  than 
a  sniff. 


12 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  dislocation  caused  in  a  large  office  by 
the  retirement  of  two  of  its  staff  is  not 
great,  and  any  inconvenience  occasioned  is 
amply  atoned  for  by  the  consequent  promotions. 
The  two  clerks  left  with  the  good  wishes  of  their 
fellows,  although  there  was  a  little  uncertainty — 
due  to  the  bearing  of  Mr.  Pope — as  to  which  of 
them  was  the  fortunate  legatee. 

The  secretary  entered  upon  his  duties  at  once. 
He  had  innumerable  consultations  with  the  lawyers 
(cheerfully  acquiesced  in  by  those  excellent  men 
of  business),  and,  with  knowledge  gleaned  from 
"Every  Man  His  Own  Lawyer,"  propounded  co- 
nundrums that  took  the  united  intellects  of  the  firm 
to  solve. 

Nor  were  the  lighter  branches  of  his  work 
neglected.  Gently  but  firmly  he  made  the  reluctant 
Carstairs  renounce  the  firm  of  City  tailors  who  had 
dressed  him  for  twenty  years,  and  all  their  works, 
and  piloted  him  to  a  West  End  house  where  the 
charges  were  three  times  as  great. 

*3 


The  Castaways 

"To  be  well  dressed  is  half  the  battle,"  he  said 
severely  as  he  followed  Carstairs  into  a  restaurant 
to  recuperate  after  their  labors.  "What  about  that 
little  table  at  the  end?" 

"That's  taken,  sir,"  said  the  waiter.  "The  next 
one  is  not  engaged." 

Mr.  Pope  frowned,  and,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, took  the  proffered  chair  and  began  to  study 
the  menu.  He  made  his  selection  after  much  ques- 
tioning, using  his  forefinger  in  preference  to  the 
pitfalls  of  the  French  language. 

He  broke  his  roll  and  looked  around  him  with 
placid  content.  The  Beech  Tree  Tavern  seemed 
to  belong  to  a  remote  and  uncongenial  past.  His 
gaze  roved  from  pretty  women  and  well-groomed 
men  to  the  small  orchestra  in  the  gallery.  He 
turned  with  a  smile  to  see  the  hors  d'asuvres  at 
his  elbow. 

The  occupant  of  the  reserved  table  appeared 
just  as  Mr.  Pope  was  toying  with  a  sweetbread: 
a  tall,  well-knit  young  man  of  about  twenty-five, 
who  took  the  chair  which  backed  on  to  Mr.  Pope's 
with  so  much  vigour  that  a  piece  of  sweetbread 
changed  its  destination  at  the  last  moment,  and, 
leaving  a  well-defined  trail  down  that  gentleman's 
shirt-front,  hid  inside  his  waistcoat. 

"Sorry,"  said  the  young  man,  moving  his  chair 
14 


The  Castaways 

forward  an  inch.  "They  don't  leave  much  room 
here." 

"Plenty  of  room  for  people  who  know  how  to 
use  it,"  said  Pope  crisply. 

The  other  smiled  amiably  and  watched  with 
some  interest  the  efforts  of  Mr.  Pope  to  find  the 
missing  morsel.  His  interest  increased  as  the  latter, 
in  a  furtive  fashion,  began  to  unfasten  the  buttons 
of  his  waistcoat. 

"Surely  you're  not  going  to  disrobe  here,  my 
good  man?"  he  said,  in  an  unnecessarily  distinct 
voice.  i 

Mr.  Pope,  crimson  with  rage  and  confusion, 
turned  a  deaf  ear.  For  some  time  he  went  on 
with  his  meal  in  silence,  and  then,  conversing  in> 
a  low  voice  with  Carstairs,  allowed  such  words  as 
"wasters,"  "over-grown  schoolboys,"  "boors,"  etc., 
to  wander  as  far  afield  as  the  next  table. 

His  countenance  did  not  relax  until  the  coffee 
and  liqueur  stage  was  reached.  He  lit  a  large  cigar 
and,  in  a  moment  of  forgetfulness,  pushed  a  little 
farther  from  the  table  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 
Contact  was  made,  as  the  electricians  say,  and  a 
strong  current  of  obstinacy  passed  from  Mr.  Pope 
and  rooted  the  feet  of  the  man  at  the  next  table 
to  the  floor.  Carstairs,  at  first  amused,  became 
apprehensive. 


The  Castaways 

"Don't  make  a  scene,"  he  whispered.  "You'll 
attract  attention  in  a  moment." 

"I'm  not  doing  anything,"  rejoined  Pope,  in  a 
hot  whisper.  "Let  him  move  back  to  his  own 
territory." 

He  thrust  his  back  heavily  into  his  chair,  deter- 
mined not  to  budge  an  inch.  The  same  idea  seemed 
to  possess  his  adversary,  then  better  feelings  pre- 
vailed, and  with  a  quiet  but  sudden  movement  he 
hitched  his  chair  forward  at  least  a  foot. 

Mr.  Pope,  by  a  frantic  movement  of  his  arms, 
retained  his  balance,  but  a  loud  snapping  noise  in- 
dicated disaster.  He  turned  to  see  the  top  of  his 
chair  and  half  the  back  dangling  to  the  floor.  His 
waiter  came  hastily  to  the  scene  of  disaster  and 
the  manager  made  a  leisurely  progress  up  the  room. 

"Another  chair,  please,"  said  Carstairs  quietly. 

A  fresh  chair  was  fetched,  and  the  manager, 
expressing  polite  regrets  for  the  shortcomings  of 
the  old  one,  withdrew  to  his  lair  to  find  fault  with 
the  waiter.  The  cause  of  the  mischief,  who  had 
taken  a  languid  interest  in  the  proceedings  over  his 
right  shoulder,  lit  a  fresh  cigarette  and  exchanged 
glances  with  Carstairs. 

"Worst  of  these  genuine  twentieth-century  Chip- 
pendale chairs,"  he  remarked  casually.  "They 
.won't  stand  a  strain." 

16 


The  Castaways 

"They  were  not  made  for  twentieth-century 
manners,"  rejoined  Carstairs  equably. 

The  young  man  flushed.  "Do  you  mean  it  was 
my  fault?"  he  inquired. 

"You  know  it  was,"  said  Carstairs. 

"Perhaps  you're  right,"  said  the  other,  shaking 
his  head.  "But" — he  nodded  in  the  direction  of 
Pope,  and  lowered  his  voice  to  a  penetrating 
whisper — "he's  got  such  an  aggressive  back.  Be- 
sides, I  didn't  think  the  chair  would  break;  I  merely 
thought  that  he  would  come  over  backwards." 

Mr.  Pope,  with  a  smothered  exclamation,  turned 
and  regarded  him  fixedly. 

"However,  all's  well  that  ends  well,"  pursued 
the  young  man.  "You'll  allow  me  to  settle  for  the 
damage." 

"No,"  said  Carstairs. 

"I  shan't  feel  comfortable  unless  I  do,"  urged 
the  other. 

"I  don't  see  any  reason  why  you  should  be 
allowed  to  feel  comfortable,"  said  Carstairs.  "You 
have  done  your  best  to  make  my  friend  feel  un- 
comfortable." 

"He's  all  right,"  said  the  young  man,  nodding 
comfortably  at  the  glowering  Pope.  "He's  a 
sportsman." 

He  turned  his  chair  a  little  with  the  air  of  one 

*7 


The  Castaways 

disposed  for  conversation,  and,  striking  a  match  for 
his  cigarette,  applied  it  first  to  the  end  of  Pope's 
cigar.  The  owner,  paralyzed  at  his  impudence, 
endured  the  attention  in  silence,  while  a  faint 
chuckle  from  Carstairs  cleared  the  atmosphere. 
Mr.  Pope  had  finished  his  second  cigar  and  the 
restaurant  was  nearly  empty  by  the  time  they  arose 
from  the  table  and,  walking  down  the  room,  divided 
the  manager's  bow  between  them. 

"Bright  youngster,"  said  Carstairs,  after  their 
newly  made  acquaintance  had  departed. 

Pope  assented,  but  without  much  enthusiasm. 
"You  gave  him  your  address,"  he  said  accusingly. 

"I  like  him,"  was  the  reply. 

"And  he  is  one  of  the  sort  that  is  sure  to  turn 
up,"  added  Pope. 

His  remark  was  justified  by  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
Jack  Knight  at  Carstairs'  flat  three  nights  later. 
Being  in  the  neighbourhood,  he  said,  he  thought  he 
would  just  look  in  and  see  how  Pope  was  progress- 
ing in  the  furniture-moving  line.  When  he  left,  at 
midnight,  both  men  saw  him  to  the  lift. 

Within  a  fortnight  he  was  on  the  footing  of  an 
old  and  valued  friend,  and  full  of  advice  beyond 
his  years  as  to  the  best  and  most  satisfactory  mode 
of  disposing  of  a  large  income.  The  endowment 
of  an  orphan  asylum,  coupled  with  visits  to  Monte 

18 


The  Castaways 

Carlo,  would,  he  thought,  satisfy  all  shades  of 
opinion. 

"Or  you  might  get  married,"  he  said  thought- 
fully. "There  are  plenty  of  women  who  could  get 
through  your  income  and  ask  for  more." 

"Meantime,"  said  Carstairs,  "while  you  are  pric- 
ing sites  for  the  asylum,  and  Pope  is  looking  up 
the  trains  to  Monte  Carlo,  I  am  going  to  look  about 
for  a  place  in  the  country." 

"Of  course,"  said  Knight  suddenly.  "Good 
heavens!  Why  didnTt  I  think  of  it  before?  It's 
the  very  thing;  it  fits  in  exactly.  I've  been  wonder- 
ing why  Fate  threw  you  into  my  lap  in  such  an 
informal  manner.     Now  I  know." 

"He  is  rambling,"  said  Pope. 

"We  are  all  going  to  ramble,"  retorted  Knight. 
"That  is,  so  far  as  one  can  ramble  in  a  motor-car. 
To-morrow  I  am  going  to  take  you  in  a  car — Car- 
stairs' — to  see  the  place.  A  beautiful  Elizabethan 
house  in  Hampshire  that  is  just  made  for  you." 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  your  lap?"  inquired 
Carstairs. 

"Small  park,  lot  of  land,  and  a  lake;  a  little 
gem  of  a  lake,"  pursued  the  young  man.  "It's  a 
little  bit  of  Paradise  that  has  fallen  into  Hamp- 
shire and  is  waiting  for  you  to  pick  up." 

"The  place  I'm  going  to  look  at  is  in  Surrey," 

19 


The  Castaways 

said  Carstairs.  "I'm  already  corresponding  about 
it." 

"Surrey?  Surrey's  no  good,"  said  Knight  quickly. 
"It's  overrun.  You  come  to  Hampshire,  there's  a 
good  chap." 

"Afterwards,  perhaps,  if  the  place  in  Surrey  is 
no  good,"  said  Carstairs. 

"But  it  might  be,"  said  the  other,  "and  in  that 
case  you  wouldn't  want  the  Hampshire  one." 

Carstairs  acquiesced. 

"There's  something  behind  it,"  growled  Pope. 
"Something  to  do  with  his  precious  lap.  He  is 
quite  agitated." 

"You're  right,  Pope,"  said  Carstairs,  regarding 
the  young  man  closely.  "If  it  were  anybody  else 
I  should  say  he  was  blushing." 

"It's  as  near  as  he  will  ever  get  to  it,"  said  Pope. 

"I  have  got  nothing  to  blush  about,"  declared 
Knight  firmly.  "There's  nothing  wrong  about  be- 
ing engaged,  is  there?" 

"Engaged!"  said  his  listeners  together,  and,  "I 
hope  she's  worthy  of  you,"  added  Pope. 

"I  fail  to  see  the  connection  between  your  en- 
gagement and  my  choice  of  a  house,"  said  Car- 
stairs. 

"Lack  of  imagination,"  said  Knight  briefly.  "She 
20 


The  Castaways 

lives  down  there.  If  you  take  that  delightful  Eliza- 
bethan mansion  I  can  come  and  stay  with  you.  As 
it  is,  whenever  I  want  to  see  her  I  have  to  hang 
about  fishing  in  the  beastly  little  river  there.  Last 
four  times  I  caught  three  puny  fish  and  saw  her 
once — with  her  guardian." 

Carstairs  looked  at  him  helplessly  for  a  few 
seconds,  and  then  turned  his  gaze  on  Pope. 

"No  sense  of  proportion,"  he  said,  at  last,  "or 
else  morally  deficient." 

"Both,"  said  Pope,  in  a  deep  voice. 

"The  house  is  probably  a  draughty  ruin,"  pur- 
sued Carstairs,  "the  so-called  lake  a  duck-pond 
covered  with  green  slime.  He  ought  to  have  been 
a  house  agent." 

"Well,  I'm  going  down  there  to-morrow,  any- 
way," said  Knight.  "If  you  won't  drive  me  down, 
I  suppose  I  must  go  by  train — third  class." 

"Why  do  you  have  to  go  fishing?"  inquired  Car- 
stairs. 

Mr.  Knight  sighed.  "The  engagement  is  not 
official,"  he  said,  afoer  a  pause.  "Lady  Penrose, 
her  guardian,  misunderstands  me." 

"But  surely "  began  Carstairs. 

"Don't  make  obvious  jokes,"  said  Knight  wearily. 
"This  is  serious.  I  suppose  an  old  bachelor  doesn't 
understand;  but  he  might  try  and  learn." 

21 


The  Castaways 

"What  has  the  guardian  got  against  you?"  asked 
Carstairs. 

"Poverty,"  said  Mr.  Knight  gloomily.  "I  am 
an  undesirable.  Four  hundred  a  year  and  a  dis- 
tinguished appearance  are  my  sole  assets." 

"When  I  was  your  age "  began  Carstairs. 

"Oh,  my  Aunt!"  interrupted  Mr.  Knight,  in  de- 
spairing accents.  "My  dear  Carstairs,  I  have  got 
three  uncles,  three  stolid,  unimaginative  uncles,  and 
whenever  I  go  to  see  them  to  try  and  touch  them 
for  a  little  bit  they  always  begin  that  way.  It's 
their  one  opening.  Try  and  say  something  more 
agreeable.    Tell  me  the  time  the  car  will  be  ready." 

"I'm  not  going  to  take  that  house,  mind,"  said 
Carstairs. 

"Course  not,"  said  Knight,  with  a  delighted  grin. 
"But  you  can  look  at  it.  There's  no  harm  in  look- 
ing, as  the  lady  said  when  her  husband  asked  her 
not  to  go  to  the  bargain  sale.  You're  a  brick,  Car- 
stairs. So's  Pope,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's 
reflection.  "Will  half-past  ten  be  too  early  for 
you?" 

"That'll  do,"  said  Carstairs.  "Is  the  chauffeur 
to  wear  a  white  favour?" 

"He  can  wear  a  wreath  of  roses  if  he  likes,"  said 
Knight.  "I  don't  mind.  I'm  so  pleased  at  being 
able  to  be  of  service  to  you,  Carstairs,  that  I'd  put 

22 


The  Castaways 

up  with  anything.  By  the  way,  do  you  mind  if  I 
bring  a  friend  with  me?  Chap  named  Peplow — 
great  friend  of  mine.  He's  got  interests  down 
there,  too." 

"Interests?"  repeated  Carstairs,  in  a  dazed  voice. 

Mr.  Knight  nodded.  "She's  a  very  nice  girl," 
he  said  generously.  "Freddie  used  to  come  down 
fishing  with  me,  and  the  two  girls  are  great  friends. 
He  had  met  her  before  in  town,  too." 

"Do  you  think  I'm  running  a  matrimonial 
agency?"  demanded  Carstairs. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Knight,  raising  his  eyebrows. 
"I'm  merely  asking  you  for  a  lift,  that's  all.  I'll 
tell  Peplow  he  must  go  by  train." 

"Bring  him,  by  all  means,"  said  Carstairs.  "But, 
mind,  I  wash  my  hands  of  it.  I  am  merely  going 
to  look  at  a  house." 

"Awfully  good  of  you,"  said  the  other.  "And, 
if  you  remember,  that's  just  what  I  wanted  you  to 
go  down  there  for.  Well,  good-by.  If  I'm  to  be 
up  early  in  the  morning  I  must  be  off." 

He  took  a  cigarette  from  the  box  and  departed, 
humming  the  latest  air  from  the  latest  musical 
comedy.  Carstairs,  to  avoid  the  censorious  gaze  of 
Pope,  got  up  and  helped  himself  to  a  whisky  and 
soda. 

The  morning  was  misty,  with  a  glorious  sun  over- 
23 


The  Castaways 

head,  as,  punctual  to  the  minute,  the  car  drew  up 
and  Mr.  Knight  descended  the  steps  from  his  front 
door,  accompanied  by  a  young  man  of  somewhat 
chubby  appearance,  whom  he  introduced  as  Mr. 
Peplow.  To  Mr.  Pope's  whispered  inquiry,  "Where 
are  the  others?"  he  turned  a  deaf  ear. 

"Awf'lly  good  of  you,"  said  Mr.  Peplow,  climb- 
ing into  the  car  as  his  friend  got  up  in  front.  "I'm 
so  fond  of  fishing." 

"Are  your  rods  down  there?"  inquired  Carstairs, 
as  the  car  moved  off. 

"Jack,"  said  Mr.  Peplow,  leaning  forward, 
"we've  forgotten  the  rods." 

"Never  mind,"  said  Mr.  Knight. 

"But "  said  Mr.  Peplow. 

Knight  twisted  round  in  his  seat.  "It's  all  right," 
he  said  calmly.  "They  know  all  about  it.  Car- 
stairs  wormed  it  out  of  me  last  night." 

Mr.  Peplow  sat  back  in  his  seat  and  blushed, 
and,  smoothing  a  small  fair  moustache,  glanced 
sideways  at  his  astonished  host.  A  smothered  guf- 
faw from  Mr.  Pope  did  not  add  to  his  comfort. 

"Awf'lly  good  of  you,"  he  murmured  mechani- 
cally. 

"Just  the  day  for  a  run,"  said  Knight,  turning 
round  in  his  seat  again  as  they  left  the  dwindling 

24 


The  Castaways 

suburbs  and  began  to  scent  the  open  country.    "You 
ought  to  be  awfully  obliged  to  me,  Carstairs." 

"I  am,"  was  the  reply. 

"What  is  the  programme?"  inquired  Knight. 
"There's  an  awfully  decent  inn  in  the  village,  and 
I  suggest  we  should  lunch  there,  and  then  go  on 
to  the  house  afterwards." 

"That'll  do,"  said  Carstairs.  "And  perhaps  we 
shall  be  able  to  see  the  house  from  the  inn.  That 
will  save  trouble." 

"I  don't  mind  trouble,"  said  Knight,  "especially 
if  I  can  pick  my  own.  Do  you  mind  if  I  drive  a 
little  way?" 

He  changed  seats,  and  Mr.  Pope,  with  a  smoth- 
ered exclamation,  held  on  to  the  side  of  the  car. 
He  leaned  across  Mr.  Peplow  to  shout  to  Car- 
stairs, but  the  wind  blew  the  words  down  his  throat. 
He  huddled  back  into  his  seat,  and  prepared  for 
the  worst. 

"Fast?"  said  Mr.  Knight,  as  he  slowed  down 
for  a  village.  "You  don't  call  that  fast,  do  you? 
Wait  till  I  get  a  bit  of  straight  road." 

"He  never  has  an  accident,"  said  Mr.  Peplow 
proudly,  "but  he's  had  the  most  marvellous  squeaks. 
Do  you  remember  that  brick-cart,  Jack?" 

Mr.  Knight  turned  his  head  to  smile,  and  Mr. 
Pope's  voice  rose  in  protest. 

25 


The  Castaways 

"We'll  keep  her  down  to  twenty-five  or  thirty, 
please,"  said  Carstairs,  leaning  forward,  "for  the 
sake  of  the  brick-carts." 

Mr.  Knight  sighed,  and  with  a  couple  of  fingers 
on  the  wheel  endeavoured,  but  in  vain,  to  carry  on 
a  conversation  with  Mr.  Pope. 

"We're  nearly  there,  now,"  he  said  presently. 
"Keep  your  eyes  open  for  the  scenery." 

They  passed  slowly  through  a  winding  village 
street,  whose  half-timbered  houses  had  drowsed 
through  the  centuries.  The  bell  of  the  general  shop 
clanged,  and  a  bent  back  disappeared  inside  the 
doorway  of  the  Red  Lion.  The  rest  of  the  place 
slept. 

"Restful!"  said  Mr.  Knight,  almost  smacking 
his  lips.     "Here's  our  show." 

He  drew  up  in  front  of  a  sedate  old  inn  a  hun- 
dred yards  beyond  the  village,  and,  yielding  the 
wheel  to  the  chauffeur,  led  the  way  inside  and,  nod- 
ding to  the  landlord,  passed  upstairs. 

"Now  for  a  fire  and  a  meal,"  he  said  as  he 
ushered  them  into  a  comfortable  room.  "Here's 
the  fire,  and  the  food  will  be  on  the  table  at  one. 
Observe  how  beautifully  Pope's  legs  frame  the 
glowing  coals." 


26 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  meal  at  the  White  Hart  was  so  good 
that  Carstairs  had  a  shrewd  suspicion  that 
it  had  been  ordered  beforehand  by  the 
enterprising  Knight.  Mr.  Pope  rose  from  the  table 
with  a  sigh,  and,  throwing  the  stub  of  his  cigar 
into  the  grate,  drew  an  arm-chair  on  to  the  hearth- 
rug and  surveyed  his  friends  with  misty  eyes. 
Then,  to  Knight's  indignation,  he  drew  a  large  silk 
handkerchief  from  his  pocket  and,  placing  it  over 
his  face,  composed  himself  to  slumber. 

"Is  he  ill?"  inquired  Knight.  "I  don't  like  his 
breathing.  There's  a  croupy  sound  about  it  that 
would  make  me  uneasy  if  I  were  his  mother!" 

The  lips  below  the  handkerchief  parted,  and 
then,  apparently  thinking  better  of  it,  shut  again 
with  a  snap. 

"Give  him  half  an  hour,"  said  Carstairs. 

"I'd  give  him  five  years  if  I  could,"  said  Knight 
fervently,  "but,  unfortunately,  time  won't  wait. 
It's  twenty  past  two  now,  and  Hawker  will  be  at 
the  house  at  half-past." 

"Hawker!"  repeated  Carstairs. 
27 


The  Castaways 

"The  agent,"  explained  Mr.  Knight.  "I  didn't 
want  you  to  have  to  come  down  twice  over  this 
affair,  so  I  wired  to  him  to  meet  you." 

"Jack  thinks  of  everything,"  said  Mr.  Peplow, 
turning  to  Carstairs. 

"Did  he  think  of  your  engagement?"  said  Pope, 
sitting  up  suddenly  and  turning  to  Mr.  Peplow. 
"I  mean,  did  he  contrive  it  to  suit  his  own  ends 
in  any  way?" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Peplow,  blushing.  "It's — 
it's  a  case  of  mutual  esteem.  Besides,  we  are  not 
engaged.  We  may  be  in  time.  It's  only  a  hope 
with  me  at  present.     It's " 

"Don't  tie  yourself  in  knots,  Freddie,"  said 
Knight  kindly.  "He's  not  your  father;  and  there'll 
be  plenty  of  other  people  to  explain  to.  Save  your- 
self up  for  them.  All  this  is  sour  grapes  to  Pope. 
The  only  time  a  girl  ever  smiled  at  him  was  when 
he  slipped  on  a  banana  skin.  Are  we  all  ready, 
Carstairs?" 

A  little  over  five  minutes  in  the  car  brought 
them  to  the  lodge  gates,  where  a  man  in  a  blue 
baize  apron,  touching  his  cap  as  they  turned  in, 
followed  them  up  the  drive  on  foot.  The  road 
was  a  winding  one,  and  when  the  house  suddenly 
burst  into  view  Carstairs  was  unable  to  repress  an 
exclamation. 

28 


The  Castaways 

"Ripping,  isn't  it?"  said  the  gratified  KnighL 
"Don't  let  him  look  so  pleased,  Pope;  Hawker  is 
a  hard  nut  to  crack." 

Mr.  Hawker,  a  wiry  figure  in  a  bowler  hat  and 
mustard-coloured  gaiters,  came  forward  to  meet 
them  as  the  car  stopped.  A  pleasant-faced  man, 
but  with  a  glint  in  his  eye  that  put  all  Mr.  Pope's 
faculties  on  the  alert. 

"Good  job  Carstairs  has  got  you  to  look  after 
him,"  murmured  Knight  in  his  ear  as  they  dis- 
mounted. 

Mr.  Pope  grinned,  and  endeavoured,  but  in  vain, 
to  throw  off  the  arm  linked  in  his.  He  even  went 
so  far  as  to  call  the  owner  a  serpent,  but  Mr. 
Knight,  who  was  at  the  moment  introducing  Mr. 
Carstairs,  paid  no  heed. 

It  was  a  beautiful  house,  and  Carstairs,  to  his 
secretary's  horror,  promptly  said  so.  In  these  cir- 
cumstances there  was  nothing  for  Mr.  Pope  to  do 
but  to  call  attention  to  the  time-worn  brickwork. 
He  also  pointed  out  that  one  of  the  gables  was 
a  little  bit  out  of  plumb. 

"Very  nice  to  look  at,  of  course,"  he  said,  shak- 
ing his  head,  as  they  passed  slowly  along  the  ter- 
race. "I  remember  once  being  much  impressed  by 
the  ruins  of  an  old  castle  in  Scotland." 

"Ah,  if  you  want  ruins,"  said  Mr.  Hawker,  "I'm 
29 


The  Castaways 

afraid  you  will  be  disappointed  here.  The  house 
is  in  a  splendid  state  of  preservation." 

"Any  ghosts?"  inquired  Pope. 

Mr.  Hawker  hesitated;  some  people  like  ghosts, 
others  have  an  insurmountable  objection  to  them. 

"It  looks  too  comfortable  for  a  ghost,"  he  said 
with  a  laugh.     "Do  you  believe  in  them?" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Pope  disdainfully. 

"There  is  no  ghost  here,"  said  Hawker  promptly. 
"Shall  we  go  inside  now,  while  the  light  is  good?" 

He  led  the  way  in,  and  left  the  old,  oak-panelled 
hall,  with  its  huge,  open  fireplace,  to  speak  for 
itself.  A  wood  fire  crackled  and  blazed  on  the 
hearth. 

"I  thought  it  would  look  comfortable,"  said  Mr. 
Hawker. 

Mr.  Pope,  with  his  back  to  the  blaze,  nodded 
benignly.  Then  he  intercepted  a  faint  grin  pass- 
ing from  Mr.  Knight  to  Mr.  Peplow. 

"You  thought  so  too,   Knight?"  he  said  loudly. 

"I  think  so,"  corrected  the  young  man  in  a  sur- 
prised voice.  "But,  my  dear  Pope,  think  of  this 
hall  furnished !  Old  chests,  old  chairs — not  too 
old  to  be  comfortable  —  Persian  rugs,  drinks, 
cigars " 

"Draughts,"  interposed  Mr.  Pope. 

"Fresh  air,"  said  Knight.  "Come  along,  there's 
30 


The  Castaways 

a  lot  to  see.  And  after  the  house  there  is  the  glass, 
and  the  stables,  and  the  lake." 

They  wandered  through  the  house,  Mr.  Knight 
hastily  furnishing  each  room  in  a  few  well-chosen 
words  as  they  inspected  it.  A  suite  of  three  rooms 
with  a  magnificent  view  he  allotted  to  Mr.  Pope. 
He  laid  stress  on  the  fact  that  the  principal  one 
contained  a  fireplace  big  enough  to  roast  an  ox. 

"It's  a  nice  house,"  said  Carstairs  to  him,  as 
they  all  trooped  downstairs  again.  "Yes,  all  right; 
I  have  admired  the  staircase  once — and  if  you  will 
give  me  your  word  of  honour  never  to  visit  me 
or  worry  me  with  your  matrimonial  projects  I 
might  think  of  taking  it." 

"I'll  promise  never  to  come  unless  I  am  asked," 
said  the  young  man  stiffly. 

"I'm  afraid  that's  no  good,"  said  Carstairs,  smil- 
ing. "You  must  promise  not  to  come  when  you 
are  asked." 

Mr.  Knight's  face  relaxed.  "You're  a  good  sort, 
Carstairs,"  he  said  blithely.  "Bit  too  fond  of 
rotting;  but  we  can't  all  be  perfect.  Pope  must 
have  got  a  soft  spot  in  his  heart  for  me  too.  He 
said  the  other  day  that  he  wished  he  had  been 
my  father." 

The  air  struck  chill  and  the  light  was  fading  as 
they  got  outside.     It  was  damp  underfoot,  and  the 

3i 


The  Castaways 

much-vaunted  lake  looked  drear  and  cold.  Effects 
on  the  water,  pointed  out  by  Messrs.  Hawker  and 
Knight,  only  elicited  a  shiver  from  Mr.  Pope. 

"Most  depressing,"  he  declared.  "Let's  get  back 
and  have  some  tea.  We  shall  be  frozen  getting 
back  to  town." 

He  turned  and  led  the  way  to  the  car,  while 
the  lodge-keeper,  who  had  been  hovering  near  the 
party,  touched  his  cap  to  Carstairs  and  asked  per- 
mission to  favour  him  with  a  few  biographical 
details  concerning  the  best  man  he  ever  knew.  It 
was  an  inspiring  theme,  but  the  party  waiting  in 
the  car  began  to  murmur  at  the  length  of  it.  He 
turned  away  with  a  smile  at  last  and  moved  off 
with  a  springy  step. 

"Want  the  job?"  inquired  Knight,  as  Carstairs 
took  a  seat  beside  him. 

Carstairs  nodded. 

"What  did  you  tell  him?"  inquired  the  other, 
as  the  car  whirled  down  the  drive. 

"Told  him  'Yes,'  of  course,"  said  Carstairs. 
"Poor  chap,  he  has  been  in  a  state  of  anxiety  for 
nine  months.  He's  been  here  seventeen  years. 
What  are  you  laughing  at?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Knight.  "It  wasn't  a  laugh;  it 
was  a  gratified  smile  at  hearing  you  have  decided 
to  take  the  place." 

32 


The  Castaways 

"Subject  to  coming  to  terms,  yes,"  said  Carstairs. 
"But  that  is  Pope's  job.  Pope  versus  Hawker.  You 
were  quite  right,  Knight;  it's  a  beautiful  place,  and 
I'm  glad  I  came  to  see  it." 

"Few  men  would  admit  themselves  to  have  been 
in  the  wrong  as  freely  as  you  do,"  said  Knight 
gravely.     "Freddie !" 

"Halloa !"  said  Mr.  Peplow. 

"He's  hooked!" 

Mr.  Peplow  started,  and  then  turned  to  Mr. 
Carstairs  with  a  glance  of  protest  at  his  friend's 
rudeness. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Knight.  "You  needn't 
look  like  a  little  plaster  saint.  Remember  what  you 
said  about  him  last  night." 

"I  ?"  stammered  the  distressed  Peplow.  "I  assure 
you,  Mr.  Carstairs " 

"He's  always  like  that,"  said  Knight  calmly;  "he 
lets  me  fight  his  battles  for  him,  and  then  tries  to 
pass  by  on  the  other  side.  Fortunately,  my  char- 
acter is  strong  enough  for  both.  Here  we  are,  and 
now  for  a  cup  of  Pope-reviving  tea.  Hot  and  strong, 
with  two  lumps  of  sugar." 

Mr.  Pope  subsided  into  his  easy-chair  with  a  sigh 
of  relief  and  extended  his  hands  to  the  blaze.  Tea 
appeared  on  the  table,  but  he  refused  to  move,  and 

33 


The  Castaways 

taking  cup  after  cup  in  his  cosy  corner  gradually 
thawed  into  a  heavy  geniality.  He  even  joined  in 
the  chorus  of  praise  of  the  house,  comparing  it  fa- 
vourably with  others  of  three  inches  by  two  that 
he  had  seen  in  advertisements.  In  reply  to  a  chal- 
lenge of  Knight's  he  declared  himself  a  match  for 
Hawker  any  day. 

"So  long  as  you  fix  it  up  I  don't  mind  who  wins," 
said  Knight.  "Carstairs  has  got  plenty  of  money. 
Have  you  finished,  Freddie?"  he  inquired,  with  a 
significant  glance;  "because  if  so  you  had  better 
come  down  and  see  the  landlord  about  that  dog  you 
were  talking  about." 

Mr.  Peplow,  exhibiting  more  confusion  than  the 
occasion  seemed  to  warrant,  arose,  and  with  a  glance 
at  Carstairs,  followed  his  friend  out  of  the  room. 
Mr.  Pope,  declining  another  cup  of  tea,  lit  a  cigar- 
ette and  smoked  on  in  silence. 

"Nice  boys,"  said  Carstairs,  breaking  a  long 
silence. 

Pope  grunted.  "Might  be  worse,"  he  said  at 
last.  "Pity  Knight  couldn't  have  had  the  advantage 
of  a  training  at  the  bank.  If  he  had  gone  in,  say 
at  eighteen,  under  me,  he  would  have  been  a  dif- 
ferent man  altogether." 

Carstairs  agreed,  and,  drawing  his  chair  up,  sat 
gazing  at  the  fire.     Pope  finished  his  cigarette,  and, 

34 


The  Casta wavs 

throwing  the  stub  into  the  grate,  closed  his  eyes  and 
fell  into  a  light  doze. 

He  awoke  after  some  time,  and,  rubbing  his  eyes, 
sat  up  blinking  at  his  friend.  Then  he  looked  at 
the  clock. 

"Good  gracious!"  he  said,  with  a  start.  "It's 
time  we  were  off.    Where  are  those  boys?" 

Carstairs  shook  his  head.  "Still  discussing  the 
dog,  I  suppose,"  he  said. 

"I'll  go  and  hurry  them  up,"  said  Pope. 

He  went  heavily  downstairs,  to  reappear  in  five 
minutes'  time  with  the  landlord. 

"They  didn't  say  anything  to  me  about  a  dog," 
said  the  latter.  "They  went  out  about  half  an 
hour  ago,  and  they  said  if  anybody  asked  for  them 
they  had  gone  out  to  look  at  the  moon." 

"Moon!"  repeated  Mr.  Pope  sharply.  "But 
there  is  no  moon." 

"Just  what  I  told  'em,"  said  the  landlord.  "And 
Mr.  Knight  said,  'No,  he  knew  that,  and  they  were 
going  out  to  see  what  had  become  of  it.'  " 

Carstairs  coughed  and  looked  at  Pope.  "It  would 
serve  'em  right "  he  began  slowly. 

"Eh?"  said  Pope. 

Their  eyes  met,  and  the  hard  lines  in  Pope's  face 
melted  into  a  huge  grin. 

"Let  me  have  my  car  as  soon  as  possible,"  said 
35 


The  Castaways 

Carstairs,  turning  to  the  landlord;  "and  when  those 
two  gentlemen  come  back  tell  them  we  couldn't 
wait." 

"Tell  'em  we  have  'shot  the  moon,'  "  added  Pope, 
with  a  noisy  chuckle.     "Hurry  up!" 

He  clapped  Carstairs  on  the  shoulder  as  the  land- 
lord withdrew,  and  both  gentlemen,  in  a  state  of 
glee  somewhat  unsuited  to  their  years,  proceeded 
to  array  themselves  for  the  journey.  Pope  held  his 
friend's  coat  for  him  and  placed  it  almost  tenderly 
about  his  shoulders.  Mr.  Carstairs,  after  Pope  had 
wound  a  huge  muffler  about  his  throat,  thoughtfully 
pulled  up  his  coat-collar  for  him. 

"I  hope  the  landlord  won't  forget  that  bit  about 
'shooting  the  moon,'  "  said  Pope,  as  they  almost 
danced  downstairs.  "I  should  like  to  see  Knight's 
face ;  but  you  can't  have  everything." 

They  stopped  in  front  of  the  cosy  bar,  and  at 
Pope's  suggestion  ordered  a  couple  of  glasses  of 
cherry  brandy  to  keep  out  the  cold. 

"Car  ready?"  he  inquired,  as  the  landlord  came 
in  from  the  back. 

"Can't  find  the  chauffeur,  sir,"  said  the  landlord. 
"He's  nowhere  on  the  premises,  but  I've  sent  the 
ostler  up  the  street  to  look  for  him." 

Mr.  Pope,  with  his  glass  midway  to  his  mouth, 
turned  pale  and  put  it  down  on  the  counter  again, 

36 


The  Castaways 

while  the  landlord  turned  to  renew  the  search — 
apparently  in  the  coal-shed.  Mr.  Carstairs  emptied 
his  glass,  and  both  gentlemen,  with  lagging  steps, 
ascended  the  stairs  again. 

"Youth  must  be  served,"  quoted  Carstairs,  as  he 
proceeded  to  unwrap  himself. 

"I  wish  I  had  the  serving  of  him,"  grunted  the 
other.    "Of  all  the  young  jackanapes " 

He  turned  away  as  he  saw  Carstairs'  lips  twitch, 
and  after  a  hopeless  attempt  to  maintain  his  dignity 
began  to  laugh  too.  Restored  to  good-humour,  he 
poked  the  fire,  and,  putting  his  feet  on  the  fender, 
sat  down  to  wait. 

Half  an  hour  later  a  murmur  of  voices  below 
announced  the  return  of  the  truants.  The  landlord's 
voice  was  heard  above  the  others,  then  a  smothered 
laugh,  apparently  from  Mr.  Knight,  and  a  startled 
"H'sh!"  which  the  reddening  Pope  rightly  attrib- 
uted to  Mr.  Peplow. 

"Landlord's  given  them  your  message,"  said  Car- 
stairs. 

"Hope  we  haven't  kept  you  waiting?"  said  Knight, 
politely,  as  he  entered  the  room,  followed  by  a 
shadowy  Peplow. 

"We  have  been  waiting  an  hour  and  a  half,"  said 
Carstairs. 

37 


The  Castaways 

"Sorry,"  said  Knight.  "Didn't  seem  more  than 
five  minutes  to  us,  did  it,  Freddie?" 

"I — I  thought  we  had  been  about  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,"  said  Mr.  Peplovv,  "or  perhaps  twenty 
minutes." 

Mr.  Knight  looked  from  Carstairs  to  Pope  and 
from  Pope  to  Carstairs. 

"Sorry,"  he  said  again,  with  dignity,  "but  you 
know  our  object  in  coming  down  here,  Carstairs, 
and,  after  having  missed  the  afternoon  looking  after 
your  business,  we  thought  we  might  take  ten  min- 
utes for  our  own." 

Carstairs  looked  helplessly  at  Pope.  "My  busi- 
ness?" he  said  at  last. 

"Helping  you  to  choose  a  house,"  explained 
Knight. 

"And  what  did  you  take  Biggs  away  with  you 
for?"  demanded  Carstairs. 

"Out  of  deference  to  your  prejudices,"  said 
Knight  promptly.     "Freddie  thought " 

"I  didn't,"  interrupted  Mr.  Peplow  hastily. 

"Freddie  thought,"  repeated  Mr.  Knight  firmly, 
"that  you  and  Pope,  being  mid-Victorians,  would 
have  old-fashioned  notions  about  that  sort  of  thing, 
so  we  took  Biggs  to  chaperon  us,  and,  in  justice  to 
him,  I  must  say  that  we  told  him  to  come  with  us 

38 


The  Castaways 

to  take  something  back  to  you.  He  has  just  asked 
me  what  it  was." 

"What  was  it?"  inquired  Carstairs,  staring. 

"A  report  of  our  immaculate  behaviour,"  said 
Knight.  "Lady  Penrose's  maid  was  with  them,  and 
he  kept  her  company  in  her  duties." 

"Don't  listen  to  him,"  said  Pope,  rising  and  pick- 
ing up  his  overcoat. 

"Besides,  it  was  a  precautionary  measure,"  added 
Knight. 

Pope  stopped  with  one  arm  in  a  sleeve  and  stared 
at  him. 

"Neither  of  you  being  able  to  drive,"  explained 
Knight,  with  an  abominable  grin. 


39 


CHAPTER  IV 

MR.  HAWKER,  in  a  moment  of  frankness 
caused  by  despondency,  admitted  that  he 
had  met  his  match  in  Mr.  Pope;  after 
which  the  negotiations  for  the  tenancy  of  Berstead 
Place  progressed  with  great  smoothness.  The  law- 
yers on  both  sides  raised  various  points,  but  nothing 
that  consultations  and  letters  could  not  adjust  to 
the  satisfaction  of  all  concerned.  In  the  exercise 
of  his  duties  Pope  paid  frequent  visits  to  Carstairs' 
lawyers,  a  remark  of  the  junion  partner,  a  some- 
what excitable  person,  to  the  effect  that  it  was  a 
pity  Pope  had  not  been  brought  up  to  the  law,  giving 
him  great  satisfaction  until,  in  an  ill  moment  for  his 
peace  of  mind,  he  repeated  it  to  the  evil-minded 
Knight. 

The  lease  was  signed  at  last,  and  the  house  put 
into  the  hands  of  a  well-known  firm  r»f  builders, 
decorations  proceeding  with  the  slowness  character- 
istic of  good  work  and  the  ideals  of  the  English 
workman. 

"Trying  to  hurry  them  is  no  good,"  announced 

40 


The  Castaways 

Mr.  Pope,  coming  out  of  the  house  with  a  some- 
what flushed  face,  on  a  fine  afternoon  in  February, 
"and  sarcasm  is  simply  thrown  away  on  them.  One 
little  rat  of  a  painter  actually  asked  me  whether  I 
had  ever  been  on  the  music-halls.     Me  !" 

"I  know  the  man  you  mean,"  said  Carstairs.  "I 
stood  looking  at  him  the  other  day  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  and  he  never  moved  a  muscle.  However, 
they  will  finish  some  time,  in  spite  of  their  efforts. 
Suppose  we  walk  back  and  meet  the  car." 

It  was  damp  underfoot,  but  the  air  was  soft  and 
warm,  and  birds  of  an  optimistic  turn  of  mind  were 
already  beginning  to  sing  the  praises  of  spring.  The 
two  friends  tramped  on  pleasantly  until  they  reached 
the  village,  and,  proceeding  along  the  High  Street, 
gazed  with  some  curiosity  at  a  little  crowd  at  the 
other  end  of  it. 

"Looks  like  our  car,"  said  Pope,  quickening  his 
pace. 

It  was  their  car,  and  their  chauffeur  with  a  piece 
of  borrowed  string  was  taking  painstaking  measure- 
ments of  the  distance  of  his  wheels  from  the  foot- 
path. His  job  finished,  he  proceeded  quite  unasked 
to  perform  the  same  office  for  a  damaged  governess- 
car  that  stood  near  by  on  one  wheel.  A  neatly 
shaved  young  groom,  standing  at  his  horse's  head, 
watched  him  with  calm  disdain. 

41 


The  Castaways 

"What  is  the  matter?"  inquired  Carstairs,  step- 
ping forward. 

"Young  lad  and  a  young  horse,  sir,"  said  Biggs, 
respectfully,  but  loudly.  "Came  right  across  the 
road  into  my  off  mudguard.     Look  at  it!" 

Carstairs  glanced  at  the  crumpled  metal,  and  then 
looked  at  the  shattered  wheel  of  the  trap. 

"Anybody  hurt?"  he  inquired. 

Mr.  Biggs  stood  reflecting.  "I  don't  think  so," 
he  observed  calmly.  "It  wasn't  his  fault  if  they 
weren't;  he  did  his  best.  Come  right  across  the 
road;  I  s'pose  he  pulled  the  wrong  rein." 

Carstairs  looked  around  inquiringly.  A  hand- 
some, smartly  dressed  woman  of  about  thirty-five 
stood  on  the  footpath  with  a  pretty  girl.  From  a 
certain  air  of  detached  interest  they  manifested  in 
the  proceedings  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
trap  belonged  to  them. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  hurt!"  he  said,  raising  his 
cap. 

"Fortunately — no,"  was  the  reply. 

"Or  shaken?" 

A  little  colour  appeared  in  the  lady's  cheek.  "One 
can  hardly  be  shot  out  of  a  cart  without,"  she  said 
tartly. 

Few  men  can  gaze  on  beauty  in  distress  unmoved. 
42 


The  Castaways 

"You  must  have  been  driving  very  carelessly,  Biggs !" 
exclaimed  Carstairs. 

"Yessir,"  said  Biggs  respectfully. 

"You  might  have  killed  these  ladies." 

Biggs  twisted  his  features  into  an  expression  of 
concern.  "Yessir,"  he  said  again.  "I  was  only  a 
foot  from  the  kerb.  I  couldn't  give  'em  much  more 
room." 

"He  put  his  hand  up,"  said  an  old  man  standing 
by.     "I  see  him  do  it.     You  ought  to  ha*  stopped." 

"You  ought  to  be  in  bed,"  said  Biggs,  in  a  low 
voice,  as  he  edged  up  to  him.  "You  oughtn't  to  be 
out  with  eyes  like  them.     It  ain't  safe." 

"I'm  afraid  we  are  to  blame,"  said  Carstairs, 
"but  I  am  delighted  to  see  that  nobody  has  been 
injured.     May  I  give  you  my  address?" 

He  took  out  his  case  and,  extracting  a  card, 
handed  it  to  the  owner  of  the  trap.  The  girl  leaned 
forward  to  read  it,  and  then,  looking  up  at  Car- 
stairs, favoured  him  with  a  dazzling  smile.  Her 
companion,  placing  the  card  in  her  purse,  bowed  and 
turned  away. 

"And  if  you  would  permit  me  to  send  you  home," 
said  Carstairs,  "my  car  is  at  your  disposal.  Please 
take  it." 

"He  is  really  a  good  driver,"  said  Pope,  joining 
in  the  conversation.     "You  would  be  quite  safe." 

43 


The  Castaways 

"Thanks  very  much,  but  we  are  quite  able  to 
walk,"  said  the  lady. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  girl  gravely,  with  an- 
other glance  at  Carstairs.  "I'd  sooner  ride,  Isabel, 
if  you  don't  mind.     I  feel  just  a  wee  bit  tottery." 

Her  companion  hesitated.  Carstairs  held  the 
door  open,  and,  after  another  moment's  hesitation, 
she  stepped  in  and  seated  herself. 

"Very  kind  of  you,"  she  said,  smiling.  "It  isn't 
far;  you  won't  have  to  wait  long." 

Mr.  Biggs,  who  was  having  a  heart-to-heart  talk 
with  the  groom,  tore  himself  away  with  visible 
reluctance. 

"Why  don't  you  hold  him  properly?"  he  said,  al- 
luding to  the  horse.  "He's  wiped  his  nose  once  on 
your  sleeve  already." 

The  wheelwright  came  up  after  the  car  had  gone 
and  took  the  trap  away,  and  the  horse  and  groom, 
a  dejected  couple,  started  on  the  walk  home.  Mr. 
Biggs,  who  met  them  on  his  return  journey,  was  still 
smiling  broadly  when  he  rejoined  his  employer. 

"I  couldn't  say  much  before  a  lady,  sir,"  he  said, 
as  Carstairs  got  into  the  car,  "but  it  was  their  fault; 
the  horse  danced  about  all  over  the  road.  I've  drove 
a  car  for  six  years  now  and  never  touched  anything 
yet.  Other  things  have  touched  me  sometimes — 
and  wished  they  hadn't." 

44 


The  Castaways 

Knight,  who  looked  in  at  the  flat  late  that  even- 
ing, espoused  the  cause  of  Biggs.  "Far  too  nervous 
and  careful  to  run  into  anything,"  he  said  scornfully. 
"My  fingers  simply  itch  to  take  the  wheel  away  from 
him  sometimes." 

"Let  'em  itch,"  grunted  Pope. 

"He'll  draw  a  bath-chair  before  he  has  finished," 
said  the  young  man,  "with  a  dear  friend  of  mine  in 
it.  By  the  way,  who  were  the  ladies?  What  was 
the  young  one  like?" 

"Attractive,"  replied  Pope. 

Knight  looked  interested.  "Very  attractive?"  he 
asked. 

Pope  started  and  hid  a  grin.    "No,"  he  replied. 

"What  was  the  old  lady  like?"  inquired  Knight, 
looking  disappointed. 

"There  was  no  old  lady  there,"  retorted  Carstairs 
sharply.     "Really,  Knight " 

Mr.  Knight  whistled.  "Sorry,"  he  said  slowly, 
"but  there's  no  disgrace  in  being  old.  I  shall  be 
old  myself  some  day.  Old  age  is  beautiful.  Isn't 
it,  Pope?  Well,  what  was  she  like,  anyway?  At- 
tractive ?" 

Carstairs  nodded.  "A  well-bred,  handsome  wom- 
an, a  little  over  thirty,  I  should  think,"  he  replied. 

Knight's  eyes  sparkled.  "And  rather  a  sour  ex- 
pression?" he  inquired. 

45 


The  Castaways 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Carstairs  and  Pope  together. 

"If  it  is  the  one  I  am  thinking  of,  I  have  seen 
it  often  enough,"  said  Knight.  "But  what  was  the 
girl  really  like,  Carstairs?" 

"Oh,  nice  bright  girl,"  said  Carstairs.  "Friendly 
smile,  tallish.    She  called  her  friend  Isabel." 

"There  you  are,"  said  Knight,  jumping  up.  "My 
suspicions  are  confirmed.  Isabel  is  Lady  Penrose's 
name,  and  you  begin  an  acquaintance  I  was  looking 
forward  to  with  great  hopes  by  wrecking  her  cart. 
I  wonder  who  the  girl  was?" 

"Does  it  really  matter?"  inquired  Carstairs,  with 
a  yawn. 

"No,"  said  Knight.  "I  was  wondering  whether 
it  was  Miss  Seacombe,  that  is  all,  but  your  descrip- 
tion is  far  too  lukewarm  to  apply  to  her.  However, 
we  shall  know  when  you  call  to  inquire." 

"Call  to  inquire?"  repeated  Carstairs.  "I  am 
not  going  to  call.  Why,  I  only  know  the  lady's 
name  by  accident." 

"Of  course  you  will  call,"  said  Knight.  "You 
knock  a  couple  of  ladies  out  of  their  trap  with  your 
beastly  road-hog  car,  and  then  you  think  the  affair 
is  finished.  You  must  display  a  little  interest  in  the 
welfare  of  your  victims.    Ask  Pope ;  he  knows." 

Mr.  Pope,  removing  his  cigar,  pursed  up  his  lips 
and  frowned  thoughtfully.     "Wait  till  we  get  their 

46 


The  Castaways 

bill  for  damages,"  he  said  at  last,  with  a  side  glance 
at  Carstairs.  "Then,  if  it  is  too  heavy,  Carstairs 
can  call  and  protest  and  inquire  after  her  health  at 
the  same  time." 

"Funny,"  retorted  Knight,  "but  that  gives  me  an 
idea.  I  don't  suppose  it's  at  all  likely  Lady  Penrose 
will  make  any  claim.  Carstairs  can  call  on  her 
if  she  doesn't  and  insist  upon  it.  How  will  that 
do?" 

"Anything  to  get  rid  of  you,"  said  Carstairs,  with 
a  glance  at  the  clock. 

"You  will  call?" 

"Perhaps." 

"I'll  come  with  you  next  time  you  run  down," 
said  Knight,  with  an  air  of  resignation.  "Things 
are  sure  to  go  wrong  if  I'm  not  there;  and  you  don't 
seem  to  realise  how  important  this  is.  But  don't 
forget  one  thing.  Don't  let  Lady  Penrose  know 
that  we  are  acquainted.  Let  it  come  as  a  little 
surprise  to  her,  when  it  is  too  late." 

"Any  further  instructions?"  inquired  Carstairs. 

"I'll  let  you  know  on  the  way  down,"  was  the 
reply.  "Providence  seems  to  be  fighting  on  my  be- 
half, and  I  want  to  give  it  all  the  assistance  I  can. 
I  shall  give  Biggs  half-a-crown;  he  deserves  it." 

Biggs  received  the  money  next  day,  and,  having 
jplaced  it  carefully  in  a  leather  purse  before  stowing 

47 


The  Castaways 

it  away  in  his  pocket,  made  it  quite  clear  to  his 
benefactor  that  he  had  not  earned  it.  He  preferred 
to  regard  it  as  some  slight  consolation  for  a  base 
attempt  to  injure  an  untarnished  reputation. 

No  word  having  come  from  Lady  Penrose,  they 
went  down  to  Berstead  a  week  later,  the  inability 
of  Carstairs  to  make  up  his  mind  as  to  the  propriety 
of  calling  causing  great  concern  to  Knight  on  the 
way. 

"If  it  had  been  a  cottager  you  would  have  been 
round  next  evening,"  he  said  severely.  "Just  be- 
cause the  unfortunate  victim  happens  to  be  a  lady 
you  are  treating  her  with  studied  neglect.  She  may 
have  died  from  shock  for  all  you  know — expecting 
you  up  to  the  end." 

"I  thought  I  was  to  see  her  about  the  damage," 
observed  Carstairs. 

"Combine  business  with  pleasure,"  said  Knight, 
"but  don't  ask  after  the  cart  first,  mind.  While  you 
are  gone  Pope  and  I  will  hustle  the  workmen  for 
you.  She  won't  bite  you ;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  she  is 
rather  faddy  about  food." 

Carstairs  dropped  them  at  the  house,  and  after 
remarking  that  he  would  be  back  in  ten  minutes' 
time,  and  adjuring  Pope  not  to  let  Knight  annoy  the 
workmen,  gave  Biggs  his  directions  and  drove  away. 

4$ 


The  Castaways 

Pope,  staring  after  the  receding  car,  turned  to  con- 
front his  smiling  companion. 

"He  is  doing  this  for  you,"  he  said  importantly. 
"Carstairs  is  a  very  shy  man,  a  remarkably  shy  man 
where  women  are  concerned." 

"It  is  time  he  was  cured,  then,"  said  the  other 
serenely.  "A  man  has  no  business  to  be  shy.  I 
never  was.  Women  don't  like  shy  men;  they  are 
so  difficult  to  encourage.  Let's  go  inside  and  see 
how  things  are  progressing." 

Pope  followed  him  in,  and  for  some  time  they 
wandered  through  the  empty  rooms.  Many  of  them 
were  finished,  but  in  some  the  workmen  still  lingered. 

"Carstairs  is  taking  a  good  ten  minutes,"  said 
Knight,  as  they  gained  the  hall  again.  "Got  a  cigar- 
ette about  you,  Pope?    I  left  mine  in  my  coat." 

"So  did  I,"  said  Pope.  "Let's  stroll  as  far  as 
the  lodge  and  meet  him.  I  feel  chilly  standing 
about." 

They  reached  the  lodge  and  stood  waiting,  and, 
there  being  no  sign  of  the  car,  walked  slowly  back 
again  to  the  house  and  sat  on  the  stairs.  A  gentle 
murmur  sounded  outside. 

"Rain,"  said  Knight. 

He  got  up  and  walked  about  the  house  again. 
The  men  were  putting  their  tools  together,  and, 
drifting  downstairs,  turned  their  c©at-collars  up  at 

49 


The  Castaways 

the  door  and  departed  in  little  groups.  A  foreman, 
waiting  to  lock  up,  coughed  restlessly. 

"I'll  take  the  key,"  said  Pope.  "We'll  leave  it  at 
the  lodge." 

He  put  it  in  his  pocket  and,  walking  to  the  door, 
stood  gazing  at  the  rain,  which  was  now  falling 
steadily. 

"They  must  have  had  a  breakdown,"  he  said  at 
last,  crossly.  "Pity  we  didn't  ask  them  to  give  us 
some  tea  at  the  lodge." 

"Let's  make  a  run  for  it,"  suggested  the  other. 

Pope  shook  his  head.  "Rheumatism,"  he  said 
tersely.  "We  should  get  wet  through."  He  put 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  paced  to  and  fro.  Half 
an  hour  passed. 

"Wonder  what's  happened?"  said  Knight.  "I 
hope  he's  all  right." 

"I  wish  he'd  come,"  snapped  Pope.  "This  is  what 
comes  of  listening  to  you." 

He  went  back  to  the  stairs  again  and  sat  shiver- 
ing. Outside  the  rain  was  falling  faster  than  ever, 
and  darkness  was  coming  on. 

"I'm  afraid  you're  right,"  he  said,  after  a  long 
silence.  "Something  must  have  happened  to  him. 
He'd  never  leave  me  here  like  this." 

"Or  me,"  asserted  Knight.    "Hark !" 

He  stepped  to  the  door  again,  followed  by  Pope. 
5° 


The  Castaways 

The  sound  of  an  approaching  car  was  distinctly 
audible,  and  in  a  few  seconds  the  head-lights  swung 
round  the  corner.  It  drew  up  as  Pope  locked  the 
door,  and  stood  waiting  with  a  rhythmically  throb- 
bing engine. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  inquired,  as  Biggs 
reached  backwards  and  opened  the  door. 

"Matter!"  repeated  Carstairs,  in  a  surprised 
voice.     "Nothing." 

"What  on  earth  have  you  been  all  this  time  for, 
then?"  inquired  Pope,  dropping  heavily  into  his  seat. 

"Have  I  been  long?"  said  Carstairs.  "It  didn't 
seem  like  it." 

"But  you  haven't  been  all  this  time  at  Lady  Pen- 
rose's?" said  Knight. 

"Why  not?"  said  Carstairs,  with  some  warmth. 
"By  the  way,  Knight,  it  was  Miss  Seacombe  who 
was  in  the  trap  with  her  that  day." 

Mr.  Knight,  who  was  struggling  into  his  coat, 
grunted.  "Your  rapturous  description  could  only 
fit  her,"  he  remarked  dryly.  "Let  me  give  you  a 
hand  with  your  coat,  Pope." 

Mr.  Pope,  accepting  the  proffered  assistance,  sank 
back  into  his  seat  again,  and  after  peering  vainly  at 
Carstairs  in  the  darkness,  subsided  into  an  aggrieved 
silence.  He  broke  it  at  last  with  a  remark  about 
tea. 

51 


The  Castaways 

"Tea!"  repeated  Carstairs  dreamily.  "I've  had 
some,  thanks." 

He  pulled  up  his  coat  collar  and,  nestling  com- 
fortably in  his  corner,  closed  his  eyes.  Mr.  Pope, 
suffering  from  a  sudden  fortunate  impediment  in  his 
speech,  allowed  Knight  to  speak  for  him. 

"It  isn't  tea  he  wants,"  said  that  gentleman  sharp- 
ly, "it's  milk — a  little  of  the  milk  of  human  kind- 
ness. There  he  sits — wrapped  up  in  himself,  and 
we  can  perish  of  cold  and  starvation  for  all  he  cares. 
Are  you  listening,  Carstairs?" 

"I  forgot  you,"  said  Carstairs.  "Stop  at  the  first 
place  you  come  to.    Go  on,  Biggs." 

"Forgot  us!"  repeated  Knight,  raising  his  voice 
as  the  car  moved  on.  "That's  his  idea  of  an 
apology." 


52 


CHAPTER   V 

A  STEADY  trickle  of  thirsty  carmen  into  the 
Red  Lion  during  March  heralded  the  ar- 
rival of  Mr.  Carstairs  to  Berstead  Place. 
They  brought  on  their  vans  old  furniture,  and  other 
old  furniture  which  represented  the  pouring  of  new 
wine  into  old  bottles  with  the  happiest  results.  Chairs 
which  had  long  since  given  up  their  backs  as  hope- 
less held  themselves  erect  again  and  invited  the  in- 
spection of  the  amateur  expert;  chairs  with  three 
new  legs  footed  it  with  the  oldest. 

"You   can't   tell   them  without   taking   them   to 
pieces,"  said  Knight  to  Pope  one  afternoon,  "and 
even  the  oldest  friend  of  the  family  couldn't  do  that. 
I  shall  be  furnishing  myself  some  day,  and  this  ex- 
perience has  been  very  valuable  to  me.     Your  pur- 
chases will  last  longer  than  any  of  the  others." 
"Why?"  inquired  Pope,  smiling. 
"Because  they're  the  youngest." 
"They'll  be  old  enough  by  the  time  you  furnish," 
said  Pope,  with  a  malevolent  grin.     "I  didn't  tell 
you  that  I  called  with  Carstairs  yesterday  to  make 

S3 


The  Castaways 

sure  that  Lady  Penrose  is  still  unhurt?  That's  his 
third  visit." 

Mr.  Knight  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"Charming  woman,"  said  Pope  reminiscently. 
"Delightful !  But  it  was  quite  clear,  from  the  way 
she  talked  about  you,  that  you  haven't  the  ghost  of 
a  chance." 

"About  me !"  exclaimed  Knight.  "Why,  you  old 
blunderer,  what  did  you  mention  my  name  for?" 

"I  didn't,"  said  Pope  placidly;  "but  she  was  talk- 
ing to  Carstairs  about  Miss  Seacombe — charming 
girl,  something  so  fresh  and  unspoilt  about  her.  I 
got  quite  interested." 

"Go  on,"  urged  Knight.  "Never  mind  about  your 
feelings." 

"She  was  talking  about  her  responsibility — Lady 
Penrose,  I  mean — and  when  she  spoke  of  flippant 
ne'er-do-wells  with  no  object  in  life  we  both  thought 
that  she  must  be  referring  to  you.  When  she  used 
the  expression  'harmless  and  useless,'  we  felt  quite 
certain.  Pity  she  didn't  mention  you  by  name,  be- 
cause then  we  could  have  stood  up  for  you." 

"I  don't  mind  the  other  terms,"  exclaimed  Knight, 
"but  'harmless.'  Well,  perhaps,  she'll  know  better 
in  time.  Harmless!  I've  never  been  called  that 
before.    -If  it  had  been  Freddie  Peplow,  now " 

"She  gets  on  very  well  with  Carstairs,"  continued 
54 


The  Castaways 

Mr.  Pope.  "Wonder  what  will  happen  when  she 
finds  out  that  he  knows  you  ?  Either  she  will  drop 
him,  I  suppose,  or " 

"Or?"  prompted  Mr.  Knight. 

"Or  he  will  have  to  drop  you." 

"Nobody  can  drop  me  unless  I  want  them,  to," 
said  Knight  cheerfully.  "Think  of  the  ingratitude 
of  it!  Why,  Carstairs  would  never  have  known  of 
the  house  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me.  He  wouldn't 
have  banged  into  her  cart  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me. 
Are  you  sure  she  said  'harmless'  ?  Sure  it  wasn't 
'harmful'  ?" 

He  took  occasion  to  remind  Carstairs  at  their 
next  meeting  of  all  he  had  done  for  him,  but,  despite 
a  habit  of  looking  on  the  cheerful  side  of  things, 
doubts  began  to  assail  him  as  to  his  friend's  single- 
minded  devotion  to  his  interests.  The  man  for  whom 
he  had  done  so  much  even  advised  him  to  go  away 
for  a  year  and  find  some  hard  and  congenial  work. 
Mr.  Knight,  after  pointing  out  the  discrepancy,  re- 
quested him  to  descend  to  details.  Carstairs,  after 
long  deliberation,  suggested  sheep-farming  in  Aus- 
tralia. 

"I  was  waiting  for  it,"  said  Knight,  in  resigned 
accents.  "I  knew  it  was  coming.  It  is  the  one  occu- 
pation that  my  intelligent  friends  always  select  for 
me.    And  they  always  harp  on  Australia.    I  suppose 

55 


The  Castaways 

we  can  sheep- farm  in  other  places.  Why  Australia  ? 
And  what  do  you  think  I  know  about  sheep?" 

Carstairs  pondered.  *  'Poultry-farming?"  he  sug- 
gested slowly. 

"That's  the  second  string,"  said  Knight,  with 
forced  calm.  "Not  so  popular  as  the  other  because 
it  is  done  in  England.  I  look  like  a  poultry-farmer, 
don't  I?  How  do  you  think  the  unfortunate  hens 
would  like  it?" 

"Perhaps  you  had  better  take  to  work  by  degrees," 
said  Carstairs,  smiling.  "I  can  find  you  a  job — for 
one  afternoon.  Are  you  doing  anything  on  Fri- 
day?" 

"Depends  upon  what  the  job  is,"  said  Knight. 

"I  have  been  trying  to  arrange  with  an  aunt  of 
mine  to  come  and  look  after  me  at  Berstead,"  said 
Carstairs.  "She  couldn't  make  up  her  mind  for 
some  time,  and,  now  she  has  decided  to  come,  she 
is  coming  rather  sooner  than  I  wanted  her.  She  is 
coming  up  on  Friday  to  spend  a  few  days  in  Lon- 
don before  going  on  to  Berstead." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  inquired  Knight. 
"Head  her  off?" 

"I  want  you  to  look  after  her  for  a  few  hours," 
said  Carstairs.  "She  is  due  at  Euston  at  three,  and 
Pope  and  I  had  already  fixed  up  to  run  down  to  the 
house.     She  is  an  old  lady  of  seventy,  and  if  we 

56 


The  Castaways 

meet  her  and  hand  her  over  to  you  we  can  go  on. 
You  could  bring  her  here  and  look  after  her  till  we 
come  back." 

"Is  she  to  be  a  fixture  at  Berstead?"  asked  Knight 
thoughtfully. 

"That  is  the  idea,"  said  Carstairs. 

"Very  good  idea,  too,"  said  Knight  slowly.  "You 
and  Pope  want  somebody  to  look  after  you.  I  had 
five  or  six  very  important  engagements  for  Friday 
afternoon,  but  I'll  throw  them  over.  I  want  to 
heap  coals  of  fire  on  your  head.  How  old  do 
you  say  she  is?" 

"Seventy." 

Mr.  Knight  looked  thoughtful.  "Hurry  back  as 
soon  as  you  can,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  don't  want  to 
overdo  the  coals  of  fire  business.  I  suppose  she 
won't  be  nervous  in  a  taxi  ?  I  don't  want  her  cling- 
ing to  me,  or  anything  of  that  sort." 

His  forebodings  increased  each  day,  and  he  was 
unusually  quiet  as  he  waited  with  Carstairs  and 
Pope  for  the  incoming  train. 

"She  will  probably  want  to  rest  when  she  gets  to 
the  flat,"  said  Carstairs.  "Be  as  gentle  as  you  can 
with  her.  It's  rather  awkward  my  having  to  run 
off  like  this." 

"Deucedly  awkward,"  agreed  Mr.  Knight.  "I 
wish  now  I'd  asked  Freddie  to  lend  a  hand." 

57 


The  Castaways 

The  train  drew  into  the  station  and  the  crowd 
moved  up  the  platform.  A  fragile  little  old  lady 
with  white  hair  and  bright  blue  eyes  detached  her- 
self from  the  throng  and  came  towards  them.  Car- 
stairs,  after  an  affectionate  handshake,  introduced 
his  companions.  Then,  a  little  awkwardly,  he  ex- 
plained the  situation. 

"It's  very  kind  of  him,"  said  Mrs.  Ginnell;  "but 
I  should  have  been  all  right.  Now  you  hurry  away. 
Mr.  Knight  and  I  will  look  after  the  luggage.  I 
shall  see  you  when  you  come  bzck." 

She  raised  her  nose  and  sniffed  gently  as  the 
porter  and  the  taxi-driver  hoisted  up  the  luggage. 
"Smells  good,"  she  said,  with  a  satisfied  air. 

Mr.  Knight  stared  at  her. 

"London,"  she  explained.  "I  haven't  seen  it  for 
twenty-two  years.     Is  it  far  to  the  flat?" 

"About  a  couple  of  miles,"  said  Knight. 

Mrs.  Ginnell  sighed.  "Ask  him  to  drive  slowly," 
she  murmured. 

"It's  quite  safe,"  said  Knight  reassuringly.  "I 
picked  him  on  purpose." 

Mrs.  Ginnell  laughed.  "I  didn't  mean  that,"  she 
said.     "I  want  to  see  a  little  of  the  place." 

"Might  drive  round  a  bit  if  you  like,"  said  the 
other. 

58 


The  Castaways 

Mrs.  Ginnell  nodded,  and  sitting  with  clasped 
hands  peered  through  the  window  at  the  life  of 
the  streets.  Certain  landmarks  she  recognised  with 
little  gasps  of  pleasure;  others  had  disappeared  to 
make  way  for  new  streets  and  palatial  buildings. 
By  the  time  they  reached  the  flat  the  taximeter  regis- 
tered six-and-eightpence,  and  she  spoke  warmly  to 
Knight  of  the  courtesy  of  the  modern  taxi-driver  as 
compared  with  the  old-style  cabman.  She  referred 
to  an  affair  with  one  of  the  latter  which  had  rankled 
for  thirty-five  years. 

"Tea  first?"  said  Knight,  as  he  placed  her  in 
Carstairs'  most  comfortable  chair.  "And  then  per- 
haps you'd  like  to  go  to  your  room  and  rest  for  an 
hour  or  two." 

"No,  I  am  not  in  the  least  tired,  thank  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Ginnell,  as  he  rang  for  the  tea.  "Why,  I've 
done  nothing  to-day  yet.  I've  been  sitting  down  all 
the  time.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  about  my  nephew 
and  the  new  house." 

She  poured  out  tea  and  listened,  interposing  with 
a  dexterous  question  or  two  whenever  the  young 
man  showed  signs  of  flagging.  It  was  evident  that 
she  was  a  woman  of  intelligence;  intelligent  enough, 
he  hoped,  to  take  a  lively  interest  in  the  affairs  of 
deserving  young  men.  He  had  a  strong  idea  that 
she  was  worth  cultivating. 

59 


The  Castaways 

"I  suppose  you  wouldn't  care  to  do  anything?" 
he  remarked,  as  he  threw  away  the  end  of  his  third 
cigarette.  "If  you  are  not  too  tired,  how  about  a 
cinema?" 

"I  should  love  it!"  said  Mrs.  Ginnell.  "I  have 
never  seen  a  really  good  one.  What  time  do  you 
think  my  nephew  will  be  back?" 

"Eight  at  the  earliest,"  was  the  reply.  "But  we 
needn't  trouble  about  them;  we  must  consider  our- 
selves." 

He  lit  another  cigarette  while  Mrs.  Ginnell  was 
getting  ready,  and,  noting  with  approval  her  change 
of  costume,  escorted  her  downstairs. 

"I'd  rather  walk,"  she  exclaimed,  as  he  looked 
around  for  a  taxi.     "That  is,  unless  you  are  tired?" 

Mr.  Knight  gazed  at  her  suspiciously,  but,  seeing 
nothing  but  gentle  consideration  for  his  comfort  in 
the  old  blue  eyes  looking  into  his,  turned  and  walked 
beside  her. 

"Why,  it's  like  a  theatre !"  said  Mrs.  Ginnell,  as 
they  took  their  seats.  "The  one  I  used  to  go  to 
was  in  an  old  mission-hall  with  a  tin  roof." 

She  settled  herself  comfortably  in  her  stall  and 
for  two  hours  watched  with  youthful  enthusiasm 
Wild  West  cowboys  galloping  over  the  country- 
side; men  with  seraphic  faces  bearing  the  burden 
of  another's  guilt!  amateur  motorists  obsessed  with 

60 


The  Castaways 

the  idea  of  charging  scaffoldings  and  bringing  on 
their  heads  cascades  of  infuriated  bricklayers. 

"Most  enjoyable,"  she  murmured,  as  they 
emerged  into  the  cool  spring  evening.  "Oh,  dear! 
I  have  the  same  feeling  now  th'at  I  used  to  have 
years  ago ;  it  always  seems  so  unsatisfactory  to  come 
out  from  an  entertainment  in  daytime,  and  meet 
other  people  coming  out  to  spend  the  evening." 

Mr.  Knight  turned  and  regarded  her  with  amaze- 
ment, not  unmixed  with  admiration. 

"Quarter  to  seven,"  he  said,  looking  at  his  watch. 
"Suppose  we  eat  our  simple  meal  at  a  restaurant 
instead  of  going  back  to  the  flat?" 

"It  would  be  delightful  for  me,"  said  Mrs.  Gin- 
nell  doubtfully;  "but  it  is  not  very  amusing  for  you." 

"Now,"  said  Knight,  with  some  sternness,  "you're 
fishing!  When  I  tell  you  that  I  would  sooner  take 
you  to  dinner  than — than " 

"I  see  your  difficulty,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"Than  anybody  else  but  one  person  in  the  world,"' 
concluded  Mr.  Knight  triumphantly. 

"Very  nice,  if  not  exactly  truthful,"  commented 
Mrs.  Ginnell;  "but  I  suppose  truth  is  not  nice  as  a 
rule.  Very  well,  we  will  go  to  dinner,  and  you  can 
tell  me  about  the  girl  whose  place  I  am  usurping." 

"Where  shall  we  go?"  said  Knight,  considering. 
61 


The  Castaways 

"THe  Pagoda  is  not  bad,  but  they  have  a  band 
there." 

Mrs.  Ginnell's  eyes  sparkled.  "Lovely!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "When  one  doesn't  want  to  talk  one  can 
listen  to  the  music;  when  one  does — well,  I'd  like  to 
see  the  band  that  would  stop  me." 

It  was  a  good  dinner,  and  she  ate  it  with  appre- 
ciation. The  band  was  discreet  as  well  as  tuneful, 
and  the  waiter  like  a  ministering  angel  in  a  dress- 
suit. 

"Fancy!  I  haven't  done  this  for  over  twenty 
years,"  she  said.  "I'm  so  glad  I  came  up  in  time 
to  have  a  day  or  two  in  London  first.  It  has  been  a 
most  delightful  day." 

"Has  been?"  breathed  Mr.  Knight. 

Mrs.  Ginnell  looked  at  him. 

"Let's  go  on  somewhere,"  said  the  tempter. 

Mrs.  Ginnell's  better  nature  strove  within  her. 
"My  nephew  won't  know  what  has  become  of  us," 
she  murmured.    "Perhaps  we  had  better  go  home." 

"I'll  'phone  to  the  people  at  the  flat,"  said  Knight. 
"What  do  you  say?    A  theatre  or  a  music-hall?" 

"Music-hall,"  said  Mrs.  Ginnell  promptly.  "I've 
never  been  to  one." 

"I  shall  feel  like  a  parent  taking  his  child  to  its 
first  pantomime,"  said  Knight.     "Are  you  ready?" 


62 


The  Castaways 

Messrs.  Carstairs  and  Pope,  who  had  been  hurry- 
ing home  at  a  pace  utterly  inconsistent  with  the 
safety  of  the  public,  arrived  there  just  after  the 
message  was  received,  and  over  a  comfortable  meal 
shook  their  heads  at  the  irresponsibility  of  youth. 

"Probably  lay  her  up  for  a  fortnight,"  said  Pope 
solemnly.  "She's  a  delicate-looking  little  woman. 
I  wonder  what  his  game  is?" 

They  sat  and  smoked  until  half-past  eleven.  At 
twelve  o'clock  Mrs.  Ginnell's  nephew  began  to  be 
uneasy;  at  a  quarter  to  one,  just  as  he  was  preparing 
to  organise  the  reluctant  Pope  into  a  search-party, 
the  door  opened  and  the  truants  entered.  Carstairs, 
rising  hastily,  pushed  a  chair  towards  his  aunt  and 
offered  to  help  her  towards  it. 

"We've  had  a  lovely  time,"  said  Mrs.  Ginnell. 

"Ripping,"  said  Mr.  Knight. 

"What  makes  you  so  late?"  inquired  Carstairs. 

"Late!"  repeated  Knight.  "H'm!  I  suppose 
we  are  rather.  We  had  a  bit  of  supper  after  the 
show  and  that  delayed  us  a  bit." 

He  took  a  cigarette  from  the  table  and  sat  by  as 
a  sort  of  chorus  while  Mrs.  Ginnell  expatiated  on 
the  joys  of  the  evening.  The  narration  took  her 
some  time,  but  she  retired  to  her  room  at  last,  and 
the  door  had  scarcely  closed  behind  her  before  Mr. 
Knight  was  sternly  called  upon  for  an  explanation. 

63 


The  Castaways 

"At  present,"  said  Carstairs,  "she  is  kept  up  by 
excitement." 

"When  that  passes  away "  said  Pope,  shaking 

his  head. 

"To-morrow,"  said  Carstairs,  with  conviction, 
"she'll  be  a  wreck." 

"Beef-tea — arrowroot,"  explained  Pope  vaguely, 
"medicine — nurse." 

"It's  a  wise  nephew  that  knows  its  own  aunt,"  said 
Knight.  "Don't  you  worry  about  arrowroot  for 
her;  devilled  kidneys  are  more  in  her  line.  She's 
a  sportsman,  and  we  understand  each  other  thor- 
oughly. Henceforth,  Carstairs,  we  are  rivals;  I 
have  adopted  her  as  my  aunt." 

"Does  she  know  it?"  inquired  Pope. 

"Mutual  arrangement,  highly  satisfactory  to  both 
parties,"  replied  Knight,  with  a  yawn.  "Having  the 
gift  of  perpetual  youth  she  understands  the  motives 
and  ideals  of  the  young.  She  understands  me.  Or, 
what  is  better  still,  she  thinks  she  does.  By  the 
way,  you  had  better  get  off  to  bed,  Carstairs.  Mrs. 
Ginnell  is  going  to  ask  you  to  take  her  to  Hampton 
Court  to-morrow,  and  she  proposes  to  start  at  ten 
— so  as  to  have  a  long  day.  Sorry  I  can't  stop  any 
longer,  but  I'm  about  done  up.    Good  night." 


64 


CHAPTER   VI 

IT  was  a  fine  afternoon  in  late  spring.  A  lark 
was  singing  in  the  sky;  and  the  air  was  so  soft, 
with  such  a  feeling  of  life  and  movement  in 
it,  that  Mr.  Carstairs'  butler,  forgetting  his  high 
office,  also  lifted  up  his  voice  in  song  as  he  made 
his  way  across  the  fields.  His  song  ceased  suddenly 
as  he  turned  a  corner  of  the  hedge  and  came  upon 
a  girl  looking  at  him  over  her  right  shoulder. 

"Afternoon,  Miss  Mudge,"  he  said,  with  a  slight 
cough. 

Miss  Mudge  waited  for  him  to  overtake  her. 

"Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Markham,"  she  said 
brightly.  "I'm  afraid  I've  disturbed  you.  I  had 
no  idea  you  were  z  singer." 

"Not  much  of  a  singer,"  said  Markham  mod- 
estly. 

"There's  all  kinds,"  said  Miss  Mudge  indulgently. 
"And  so  long  as  it  doesn't  hurt  anybody,  and  they 
like  to  hear  themselves  sing,  there's  no  harm  done." 

"Ah,  you  have  got  a  happy  nature,"  said  the  but- 
ler, returning  good  for  evil.     "How  well  you  are 

65 


The  Castaways 

looking.  I  can't  think  what  you  do  to  look  so 
fresh." 

"Do !"  said  Miss  Mudge,  turning  on  him  sharply. 
"Nothing!     It's  natural." 

"Of  course,"  said  the  other  hastily;  "I  didn't  mean 
that.  I  was  just  thinking  there's  many  a  lady  would 
give  anything  to  have  your  complexion;  they'd  sell 
their  souls  for  it." 

"I  dare  say,"  retorted  Miss  Mudge;  "but  they 
wouldn't  get  it  for  that.  They'd  get  it  cheap  if 
they  did,  some  of  'em.  I  say,  do  you  think  there's 
anything  between  my  lady  and  Mr.  Carstairs?" 

"Eh?"  said  the  startled  butler.  "Anything  be- 
tween     No-o,  I  shouldn't  think  so.     What  put 

that  idea  into  your  head?" 

"Well,  I  only  wondered,  that's  all.  I  don't  gc 
about  with  my  eyes  shut,  you  know." 

"The  guv'nor  isn't  class  enough  for  Lady  Pen- 
rose," said  Mr.  Markham,  shaking  his  head; 
"though,  mind  you,  he's  a  good  sort.  After  the 
families  I've  lived  in  I'm  surprised  at  myself  some- 
times to  think  what  a  lot  I  think  of  him.  You  see, 
he  spent  over  twenty  years  of  his  life  on  a  stool  in 
a  bank,  and  he  can't  shake  it  off." 

"I  suppose  it  would  cling,"  said  Miss  Mudge,  with 
a  sigh.     "Those  things  always  do." 

"Properly  speaking,  he's  a  three  or  four  hundred 
66 


The  Castaways 

pound  a  year  man,"  said  Mr.  Markham  judicially; 
"and  it  takes  time  to  get  the  twenty  or  thirty  thou- 
sand a  year  style." 

"Wouldn't  take  me  long,"  observed  Miss  Mudge, 
with  a  bigger  sigh  than  before. 

"No;  you  see  we've  been  used  to  it  all  our  lives 
in  a  manner  of  speaking,"  said  Mr.  Markham.  "I 
wish  somebody'd  leave  me  a  fortune;  I  know  what 
I  should  do  if  they  did." 

His  voice  was  so  tender  that  Miss  Mudge,  in  self- 
defence,  glanced  somewhat  hastily  at  a  fine  bed  of 
nettles  they  were  passing. 

"I  shouldn't  waste  it  on  old  Mrs.  Minchin,  for 
one  thing,"  continued  Mr.  Markham,  after  a  side 
glance  at  her.  "And  that  makes  me  wonder  whether 
there  is  anything  in  what  you  said  just  now.  Ever 
since  Lady  Penrose  spoke  to  him  about  that  old 
woman  he  hasn't  been  able  to  do  enough  for  her. 
He's  always  taking  her  bottles  of  port  for  her  rheu- 
matism. Not  invalid  port,  mind  you,  but  the  best 
stuff  I  have  got  in  my  cellars." 

Miss  Mudge,  secretly  disappointed  at  this  change 
of  subject,  murmured  something  about  "Mr.  Car- 
stairs  and  'Love's  young  dream.'  " 

"It  comes  to  all  of  us,"  said  the  butler  solemnly; 
"none  of  us  can  escape  it." 

"Except  me,"  said  Miss  Mudge.  "I  never  could 
67 


The  Castaways 

understand  people  falling  in  love  with  each  other. 
It  seems  so  silly,  so  childish.  Mr.  Biggs  was  saying 
to  me  only  the  other  day " 

"Biggs!"  interrupted  Mr.  Markham,  with  some- 
thing between  a  sniff  and  a  scowl.  "I  can't  stand 
that  fellow.  Whether  it's  the  smell  of  oil,  or  his 
untidy  appearance,  I  don't  know.  Have  you  ever 
seen  him  with  a  bit  of  what  he  calls  axle-grease  on 
the  tip  of  his  nose  and  a  smear  of  dirty  oil  on  his 
cheek?" 

"Never,"  said  the  delighted  Miss  Mudge.  "He's 
always  been  very  spic-and-span  when  I  have  seen 
him.  Dressy,  I  call  him.  And  he's  such  a  fine  driver. 
He  says  it's  because  he  has  got  a  gift  for  engineer- 
ing. I  sat  next  to  him  the  other  day  when  Mr.  Car- 
stairs  drove  us  over  to  Wimbush,  and  he  explained 
all  about  motor-cars  to  me.  He  says  that  I  have 
got  a  very  quick  understanding." 

"Anything  else?"  inquired  Mr.  Markham  sourly. 

"He  said  a  lot  of  silly  things,  of  course,"  said 
Miss  Mudge,  tossing  her  head.  "But,  then,  men 
always  do.    He's  no  worse  than  the  others." 

"He's  a  very  worthy  person,  I've  no  doubt,"  said 
Mr.  Markham  loftily.  "The  trouble  is  he  is  no 
gentleman.  Put  him  in  a  suit  of  overalls,  and  give 
him  a  lump  of  cotton-waste  to  clean  himself  with, 
and  he  is  satisfied." 

68 


The  Castaways 

"Oh,  how  funny!"  said  his  companion,  with  a 
giggle.      "Why,  it's  like  thought-reading." 

Mr.  Markham  turned  an  inquiring  gaze  upon  her. 

"Overalls  and  cotton-waste,"  explained  Miss 
Mudge,  still  giggling.  "And  he  said,  'A  second- 
hand dress-suit  and  a  serviette  !'  And  he  said  some- 
thing about  mistakes,  and  serviettes  and  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  that  I  won't  repeat." 

"He's  got  a  low  mind,"  said  the  enraged  butler, 
breathing  hard.  "If  he's  not  careful  he'll  get  that 
gifted  head  of  his  punched  one  day." 

He  stalked  along  in  silent  dudgeon  until  they 
reached  the  village,  and  Miss  Mudge,  having  busi- 
ness to  do  at  the  drapery  section  of  the  general 
shop,  bade  him  good-bye.  He  had  fallen  a  victim 
at  almost  their  first  meeting,  and  was  beginning  to 
realise  with  some  concern  that  his  was  only  one  case 
amongst  many;  but  in  his  most  pessimistic  moments 
he  had  never  dreamed  of  Mr.  Biggs  as  a  rival. 

While  he  walked  home  thinking  of  Miss  Mudge, 
Carstairs  and  Pope  sat  by  the  window  in  the  latter's 
comfortable  sitting-room  discussing  her  mistress. 
The  conversation  had  been  started  by  Pope,  who, 
as  secretary,  adviser,  and  friend,  was  pointing  out 
to  Carstairs  the  well-known  difficulties  encountered 
in  trying  to  run  with  the  hare  and  hunt  with  the 
hounds. 

69 


The  Castaways 

"I'm  going  to  do  it,  though,"  said  Carstairs. 
"Perhaps  in  the  end  I  shall  earn  the  gratitude  of 
both." 

Pope  shook  his  head.  "You  know  Lady  Pen- 
rose's views,"  he  said  slowly. 

"Some  of  'em,"  admitted  Carstairs. 

"And,  knowing  them,  you  deliberately  go  and  in- 
vite those  two  young  men  down  here  for  a  week 
or  two,"  pursued  Pope.  "You  come  down  a  stranger 
into  this  peaceful  country  spot  and  at  once  begin 
to  set  people  by  the  ears.  You  told  me  you  liked 
Talwyn." 

"I  like  him  well  enough,"  said  Carstairs. 

"It's  the  dream  of  his  life  to  marry  Miss  Blake, 
and  it's  the  dream  of  Mrs.  Jardine's  life  that  he 
should,"  continued  Pope.  "Naturally  the  old  lady 
wants  to  do  the  best  she  can  for  her  niece.  He's 
got  six  thousand  a  year  and  a  baronetcy,  and  you 
are  going  to  help  that  deluded  girl  to  young  Pep- 
low  instead." 

"He's  fifty-five,"  said  Carstairs,  "and  fifty-five 
and  twenty  don't  match.  He'll  live  to  thank  me 
for  my  efforts — if  he  gets  to  hear  of  them.  I 
thought  you  liked  the  boys." 

"So  I  do,"  said  Pope,  "so  I  do;  but  that's  no 
reason  why  I  should  interfere  in  affairs  of  this  kind. 
And  I  like  Talwyn.     My  idea  is  to  stand  aside  and 

70 


The  Castaways 

see  fair-play.  That  friend  of  his,  Captain  Toll- 
hurst,  told  me  that  he  had  never  seen  Talwyn  so 
keen  on  anything  in  his  life:  He  said  it  has  made 
him  years  younger." 

"He  looks  fifty-five  in  spite  of  it,"  said  Carstairs. 
"No,  he  mustn't  do  it.  It  can't  be  allowed.  By 
my  own  wits  and  the  willing  aid  of  an  intellectual 
secretary  I  intend  to  forbid  the  banns.  Besides, 
I  didn't  invite  the  boys.     It  was  my  aunt." 

"Handy  aunt  to  have,"  murmured  Pope.  "They 
want  a  little  country  air,  I  suppose?  Milk  and 
fresh  eggs,  and  buttercups  and  daisies.  Eh?  They 
make  a  fuss  of  you  and  Mrs.  Ginnell  just  to  serve 
their  own  ends." 

"Very  natural,  too,"  declared  Carstairs  warmly. 
"Why  shouldn't  they?  And  there's  no  deception; 
Knight  has  been  painfully  frank  about  it.  They're 
both  nice  boys — and  youth  should  mate  with  youth, 
Pope.     Besides " 

"Besides  what?" 

"I  think  that  Lady  Penrose  is  playing  the  tyrant. 
She  started  with  an  objection  to  Knight,  and  she 
won't  own  herself  in  the  wrong.  It  shall  be  my 
task  to  show  her  the  error  of  her  ways.  I  shall 
enjoy  it." 

"Money  is  spoiling  you,  Carstairs,"  said  Pope, 
shaking  his  head.     "At  the  bank  I  never  knew  a 

7i 


The  Castaways 

quieter  man  than  yourself.  In  those  days  you  were 
the  sort  of  man  that  couldn't  say  'boh !'  to  a  goose, 
and  now " 

"Now  I  am  going  to  say  it  to  Lady  Penrose," 
said  his  friend.  "Is  that  what  you  mean?  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  like  opposing  her.  She  is  a  charming 
woman,  but  she  always  takes  it  for  granted  that 
she  is  going  to  have  her  own  way.  She's  got  a 
queenly  manner  about  her,  Pope,  that  always  makes 
me  yearn  to  be  an  emperor." 

"You'll  look  a  lot  like  an  emperor  when  she 
finds  it  out,"  grunted  Pope.  "I  shouldn't  like  to 
be  in  your  shoes." 

"Well,  you've  got  to  if  anything  goes  wrong," 
said  Carstairs,  with  a  malicious  smile.  "I  shall  put 
all  the  blame  on  you  as  my  secretary.  After  all, 
you  are  responsible  for  Knight.  If  you  hadn't 
scraped  acquaintance  with  him  I  should  never  have 
known  him.  If  you  will  make  friends  with  strangers 
in  restaurants  you  must  put  up  with  the  conse- 
quences." 

"I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  said  Pope 
primly.  "I  never  interfere  in  other  people's  busi- 
ness. And  Talwyn  told  me  the  other  day  that 
Miss  Seacombe  loses  her  money  if  she  marries 
without  Lady  Penrose's  consent.  Did  you  know 
that?" 

72 


The  Castaways 

Carstairs  nodded.  "I  know  Lady  Penrose,"  he 
said  confidently.  "She  is  one  of  the  best-hearted 
women  breathing.  She  might  use  her  powers  as 
a  threat,  but  she  would  never  dream  of  putting 
them  into  action.  She  is  an  ornament  to  her  sex, 
and  doesn't  know  it;  an  angel  in  expensive  and 
very  becoming  gowns.     A — a " 

"Go  on,"  said  Pope,  eying  him. 

"I  think  she  has  rather  an  amused  toleration 
for  me,  which  rather  rankles;  and  you  know  what 
a  good  book-keeper  I  used  to  be  ?" 

"First  I've  heard  of  it,"  said  Pope,  in  genuine 
surprise.     "What  about  it?" 

"I'm  going  to  try  and  balance  the  account,  and 
help  the  boys  at  the  same  time.  It  wants  diplomacy, 
of  course,  and  that's  where  you  come  in.  When 
I  am  in  doubt  I  shall  consult  you;  if  I  get  into 
trouble  I  shall  put  the  blame  on  you.  Now,  first 
for  advice.     What  do  you  suggest?" 

"Kidnap  Lady  Penrose  and  Mrs.  Jardine,  and 
anchor  them  in  the  punt,  properly  provisioned,  in 
the  middle  of  the  lake,"  said  Pope,  with  bitter 
fluency.  "Then  send  both  couples  off  with  Biggs 
in  a  car  to  Gretna  Green." 

"Abolished  years  ago,"  said  Carstairs.  "Try 
again." 

Pope    shrugged    his    shoulders    and,    lighting    a 

73 


The  Castaways 

cigarette  with  great  care,  sat  smoking  and  gazing 
out  of  the  window. 

"Fortunately,  Lady  Penrose  has  got  the  idea 
that  I  am  a  mild,  innocuous  sort  of  person,"  said 
Carstairs  musingly.  "She  would  never  credit  me 
with  harbouring  sinister  designs.  That  helps  a  lot. 
In  her  mind  I  am  cast  for  Simplicity  and  Inno- 
cence." 

"When  are  Knight  and  Peplow  coming  down?" 
inquired  Pope. 

"Wednesday  week,  and  the  garden-party  is  on 
Friday.  If  they  have  the  sense  to  lie  low  for  a 
couple  of  days  nobody  will  know  they  are  here, 
and  there  will  be  no  backing  out  on  the  part  of 
our  other  friends  at  the  last  moment.  I  must  have 
them  a  day  or  two  before,  or  the  matter  will  look 
too  prearranged." 

"A  lot  of  good  you'll  do,"  sniffed  Pope.  "Lady 
Penrose  will  see  through  you  at  once." 

"They  are  coming  as  friends  of  my  aunt,"  said 
Carstairs.  "Even  if  she  is  suspected  of  ulterior 
motives  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  be.  And 
coincidences  will  happen.  Anyway,  the  young  people 
will  have  a  pleasant  afternoon  together." 

"Will  they?"  said  Pope.  "Lady  Penrose  will 
look  after  that,  I  fancy,  to  say  nothing  of  Talwyn 

74 


The  Castaways 

and  Mrs.  Jardine.  The  old  lady  is  feeble,  but 
tough." 

"And  I  have  a  more  ambitious  project  in  my 
mind  still,"  said  Carstairs.  "We  haven't  seen  much 
of  the  world,  old  man.  What  do  you  say  to  a 
long  trip?" 

"Trip?"  murmured  Pope. 

Carstairs  nodded.  "I  haven't  got  it  all  thought 
out  yet,"  he  said  slowly,  "but  I  am  thinking  of 
hiring  a  yacht  in  the  autumn  and  going  for  a  long 
cruise.  It's  a  thing  I  used  to  dream  of  as  a  young 
man;  and  now  my  idea  is  to  take  these  people 
with  me  and  to  box  them  all  up  together  for  a 
few  months  and  see  what  happens." 

"Lady  Penrose  won't  come,  if  that's  what  you're 
thinking  of,"  said  Pope. 

"We'll  see,"  said  Carstairs.  "I  regard  the  yacht 
as  a  sort  of  mouse-trap,  which  I  shall  bait  with 
Talwyn.  That  will  make  Mrs.  Jardine  nibble,  and 
probably  both  of  them  will  think  it  an  excellent  plan 
to  get  the  girls  away  from  the  young  men.  I  know 
that  they  are  both  getting  a  little  anxious." 

"But  aren't  the  boys  coming?"  inquired  the 
puzzled  Pope. 

"Of  course;  but  the  others  won't  know  it  until 
the  last  moment.  That  is,  if  I  play  my  cards 
properly.     Meantime,  'mum's  the  word.'  " 

75 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  predominant  note  at  Berstead  Place 
was  peace.  It  revealed  itself  in  the  placid 
waters  of  the  lake,  in  the  trim-clipped 
maze  of  yew,  and  the  clump  of  tall  elms  with  its 
colony  of  gossiping  rooks;  in  the  well-kept  gardens 
and  the  green  slopes  of  the  park.  The  outbuild- 
ings and  the  yards  were  so  peaceful  that  hard- 
working gardeners  had  been  known  to  fall  asleep 
there  while  sitting  on  the  handles  of  their  barrows 
evolving  new  monstrosities  in  hybridisation. 

The  only  discord  in  this  Eden  was  in  the  bosoms 
of  Messrs.  Markham  and  Biggs.  Seldom  indeed 
did  these  gentlemen  indulge  in  direct  speech,  but 
each  knew,  through  the  painstaking  Miss  Mudge, 
exactly  what  the  other  thought  of  him.  The  knowl- 
edge did  not  improve  their  relations,  and  glances, 
threatening  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Biggs  and  con- 
temptuous on  the  part  of  Mr.  Markham,  were  a 
source  of  considerable  interest  to  their  fellow-ser- 
vants. The  page,  who  regarded  the  butler  with 
a  respect  verging  on  idolatry,  spent  considerable 
time  in  trying  to  devise  ways  and  means  of  keep- 

76 


The  Castaways 

ing  the  chauffeur  in  his  place.  As  a  beginning  he 
tried  the  raised  eyebrows  and  icy  stare  of  his 
superior,  and,  strolling  down  to  the  garage  one 
morning  in  shirt-sleeves  and  green-baize  apron, 
stood  watching  the  foe  at  work. 

"Halloa,  Albert !"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  who  was  pull- 
ing out  handfuls  of  grease  from  the  gear-box  and 
stripping  it  from  his  fingers  on  to  a  piece  of  brown 
paper,  "how  are  we?" 

"G'morning,"  said  Albert  distantly. 

"If  I'd  known  you  were  coming  to  pay  us  a 
visit,"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  rubbing  an  itching  nose  with 
the  back  of  a  soiled  wrist,  "we'd  have  had  some 
toffee-balls  for  you.     Wouldn't  we  Bob?" 

"Or  sugar-sticks,"  assented  the  second  chauffeur. 
"Why,  what's  the  matter  with  'is  little  face?" 

"Got  a  second  tooth  coming  through,  I  should 
think,"  said  Mr.  Biggs.  "You  want  to  rub  it,  Al- 
bert. Rub  it  with  a  bit  o'  bone,  or  a  india-rubber 
ring." 

"When  I  want  your  advice  I'll  ask  you  for  it," 
said  the  enraged  Albert. 

"Right-o,"  said  Mr.  Biggs  good-humouredly. 
"If  you  want  to  see  the  inside  of  a  gear-box,  now's 
your  time.  You  can't  learn  too  much,  you  know. 
I've  been  at  the  job  for  years,  and  I'm  always 
learning  something  fresh." 

77 


The  Castaways 

"I  don't  want  to  learn  that  work,"  said  Albert, 
with  an  affected  shudder.  "It's  all  very  well  for 
people  who  can't  do  anything  else,  but  it  wouldn't 
do  for  me." 

"Hark  at  him!"  said  the  amazed  Mr.  Biggs. 

"Reg'lar  little  poll-parrot,"  said  Bob. 

"I  like  to  be  clean,"  pursued  Albert.  "I  shouldn't 
like  to  go  about  smelling  like  a  gas-works,  and 
leaving  black  marks  on  everything  I  touched." 

"P'r'aps  you're  right,  Albert,"  said  Mr.  Biggs, 
who  was  rubbing  his  hands  hard  with  a  piece  of 
cotton-waste.  "Ah,  if  I'd  had  your  chances  what 
a  man  I  might  ha'  been." 

He  shook  his  head  mournfully,  and  taking  up 
the  paper  of  grease  crossed  over  to  put  it  in  a 
bucket.  His  foot  slipped  suddenly,  and,  with  a 
startled  exclamation,  he  threw  his  right  arm  around 
Albert's  neck  to  save  himself  from  falling.  Bend- 
ing under  the  shock,  the  boy  pitched  face-foremost 
into  the  parcel  of  grease. 

"The  very  place  I  slipped  on  last  week,  Bob," 
said  Mr.  Biggs  breathlessly.  "Gave  me  quite  a 
shock.     Have  I  hurt  you,  Albert?" 

"P-f/"  said  the  unfortunate  youth.     "P-#/" 

"Lor'  bless  my  soul!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Biggs,  in 
startled  accents.  "Look  what  a  mess  he's  made 
of  himself.     How  did  you  do  it,  Albert?" 

78 


The  Castaways 

"P-w-fff"  cried  the  boy,  still  blowing.  "You  did 
it  a-purpose." 

"Poor  little  poll-parrot,"  said  Mr.  Biggs  gently. 
"Give  me  a  bit  of  that  waste,  Bob,  and  I'll  try 
to  clean  him  up  a  bit.  He'd  get  into  trouble  if  it 
was  known  he'd  been  hanging  round  the  garage 
instead  of  getting  on  with  his  work.  Keep  still, 
Albert!" 

"I — I'll  tell  Mr.  Markham  of  you,"  said  the  boy, 
half-crying  with  rage.     "I'll " 

"Keep  your  mouth  shut,"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  hard 
at  work  with  the  cotton-waste.  "How  do  you  think 
I  can  make  a  job  of  it  while  you  go  on  talking?" 

"You — you'll — get — the  sack  for  this,"  spluttered 
the  boy. 

"Pure  accident,"  murmured  Mr.  Biggs.  "You 
ought  to  be  glad  that  you  were  there  to  save  me 
from  a  nasty  fall.     Are  you?" 

The  grown-up  reply  that  began  to  flow  from 
Albert's  lips  was  promptly  bottled  up  by  a  pad  of 
waste. 

"Another  second,"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  turning  to 
his  grinning  junior,  "and  he  would  have  said  it 
and  been  ashamed  of  himself  all  his  life.  And  in 
our  garage,  too." 

"He's  got  no  what  you  might  call  gratefulness," 
said  Bob,  "else  he'd  be  glad  that  you'd  got  that 

79 


The  Castaways 

little  spot  o'  grease  in  your  hand  to  save  his  nose 
from  damage." 

"I  don't  expect  no  thanks,"  said  Mr.  Biggs 
simply.  "There  you  are,  Albert,"  he  continued, 
giving  a  rotary  motion  to  the  handful  of  waste. 
"You're  cleaner  than  I've  ever  seen  you,  now,  and 
your  little  cheeks  are  shining  like  Ribston  pippins. 
Any  time  you'd  like  to  give  us  a  look  in  we  shall 
be  pleased  to  see  you." 

He  turned  to  his  work  again,  and  Albert,  after 
fulminating  in  the  doorway  until  his  jaws  ached, 
turned  towards  the  house  in  search  of  sympathy. 

"Shouldn't  wonder  if  Markham  had  something 
to  say  about  this,"  remarked  Mr.  Biggs.  "He's 
always  ready  to  listen  to  himself  talking." 

He  saw  Markham  later  on,  but  the  butler  made 
no  sign.  Calm  and  dignified  in  preparation  for  his 
evening  duties,  his  manner  suggested  an  entire  aloof- 
ness from  such  earthly  things  as  trouble-seeking 
chauffeurs. 

He  put  off  this  manner  with  his  evening  garb, 
and  rising  early  in  the  morning  for  a  dip  in  the 
lake,  a  privilege  accorded  by  the  thoughtful  Car- 
stairs  to  the  few  members  of  his  staff  who  cared 
to  avail  themselves  of  it,  thought  out  a  few  pungent 
remarks  to  improve  Mr.  Biggs's  circulation  before 
entering  the  water.    He  saw  the  chauffeur  in  front 


The  Castaways 

of  him,  and,  quickening  his  pace,  entered  the  dress- 
ing-shed almost  at  the  same  time. 

"I  want  a  word  with  you,"  he  said  severely. 

"Fire  away,"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  removing  his  coat 
and  hanging  it  on  a  nail.  "It's  always  a  pleasure 
to  hear  you  talk.  I  heard  you  talking  to  one  o' 
the  footmen  the  other  day,  and  it  was  all  I  could 
do  to  keep  from  laughing." 

"I  want  to  know  what  you  mean  by  messing 
the  page-boy's  face  up  yesterday,"  said  the  butler 
sternly. 

"Poor  little  chap !"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  with  a  remi- 
niscent smile.  "He  did  look  funny;  but  o'  course 
it  was  quite  an  accident.  It  would  have  been  just 
the  same  if  you'd  been  standing  there  instead  of 
him." 

The  butler  choked. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  he  said,  at  last. 

"Only  I  shouldn't  have  wiped  it  off  for  you," 
continued  Mr.  Biggs.  "Albert's  a  nice  little  chap, 
only  he's  got  wrong  ideas.  No  ambition;  he  wants 
to  be  a  butler  when  he  grows  up." 

"I  don't  want  to  talk  to  you,  my  man,"  said 
the  butler,  in  superior  accents. 

"Why,  only  just  now  you  said  you  did,"  retorted 
Mr.  Biggs.     "You  don't  seem  to  know  your  own 

81 


The  Castaways 

mind  for  two  minutes  together.     Too  much  cellar- 
work,  I  suppose." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  demanded  the 
butler  fiercely. 

"Putting  the  wine  away,"  replied  Mr.  Biggs 
darkly.  "The  smell  of  it  confuses  the  intellect. 
At  least,  I  suppose  it's  the  smell." 

"Next  time  you  interfere  with  the  boy  I  shall 
report  you  to  the  guv'nor,"  declared  Mr.  Mark- 
ham. 

"Poor  Albert!"  said  Mr.  Biggs.  "He  wants  to 
be  a  butler:  a  tell-tale.  If  he  had  any  self-respect 
he'd  want  to  be  a  man  that  uses  his  hands  and 
his  head.  A  chauffeur,  say,  like  me.  I  can  drive 
a  car,  and  I  can  mend  a  car.  If  a  car  goes  wrong 
on  the  road  I  can  jump  off  and  find  out  what  it  is. 
If  it's  a  small  thing  I  can  put  it  right  on  the  road; 
if  it's  a  big  thing,  and  I've  got  the  tools,  I  can  put 
it  right  in  the  garage.     If  it's " 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  the  butler,  with  a  dis- 
dainful smile.     "An  anthem?" 

"I  was  telling  you  about  a  man  that  can  use  his 
hands,"  retorted  Mr.  Biggs. 

"I  can  use  my  hands  a  bit,"  said  the  butler,  whose 
temper  was  beginning  to  take  control. 

"To  wipe  a  hot  plate  with  a  napkin?"  inquired 
the  other. 

82 


The  Castaways 

"Or  to  knock  a  little  sense  into  thick  heads,'* 
said  the  butler,  fastening  his  bathing-dress  as  he 
emerged  from  the  shed.  "If  it  was  not  for  my 
position  I'd  do  it  now." 

"Never  mind  about  your  position,"  entreated 
Mr.  Biggs,  following  him  up.  "There  couldn't  be 
a  finer  morning  for  it,  or  a  softer  place  for  you 
to  fall  on.     Why,  it  might  ha'  been  made  for  it." 

The  butler  turned  a  deaf  ear,  and  rubbing  his 
arms  started  to  walk  towards  the  diving-board. 
Mr.  Biggs  gave  vent  to  a  series  of  explosive 
chuckles. 

"Are  you  making  that  silly  noise  at  me?"  de- 
manded the  other,  turning  and  clenching  his  fists. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'silly  noise'?"  inquired 
Mr.  Biggs,  advancing  upon  him. 

"A  noise  like  a  sheep  with  a  cold,"  said  the 
butler  promptly,  "or  an  idiot  boy  that's  lost  his 
ma. 

"I  suppose  talking  is  all  you  can  do,"  sneered 
Mr.  Biggs,  and  thrust  his  lean  jaw  almost  into 
the  other's  face. 

The  temptation  was  too  great,  and  Mr.  Mark- 
ham,  forgetting  his  dignity,  his  situation,  and  above 
all  the  example  expected  of  him  by  his  inferiors, 
struck  it.  Mr.  Biggs,  with  surprising  suddenness, 
dropped  to  the  ground. 

83 


The  Castaways 

It  was  a  smart  blow,  and  the  effect  on  Car- 
stairs,  who  was  leaning  out  of  his  bedroom  window 
to  inhale  the  morning  air,  was  instantaneous.  The 
men  were  some  distance  away,  but  the  powerful 
binoculars  in  the  drawer  of  his  dressing-table  were 
at  his  eyes  and  focused  in  five  seconds.  Then  con- 
science pricked  him,  and  he  dashed  out  of  his  room 
in  search  of  Pope.  The  latter,  querulous  in  pink 
pyjamas  and  rubbing  the  sleep  from  h'*s  eyes,  fol- 
lowed Carstairs  to  his  room  with  his  own  glasses 
dangling  from  his  arm. 

"I  thought  you  ought  to  see  it,"  said  Carstairs, 
who  had  got  his  glasses  in  action  again.  "I  may 
want  your  advice  as  to  how  to  treat  the  matter." 

"Disgraceful!"  grunted  Pope,  leaning  out  of  the 
window.  "Sh©cking!  Markham's  going  to  win 
this." 

"Biggs,"  said  Carstairs. 

"Markham's  got  the  science,"  said  Pope.  "Ha ! 
Bra H'm,  h-mm!" 

"I  think  I  had  better  run  down  and  stop  it," 
said  Carstairs,  with  his  glasses  glued  to  his  eyes. 

"You  can't  run  about  in  pyjamas,"  said  Pope 
hastily.     "It  wouldn't  do." 

"I  suppose  it  wouldn't,"  said  the  other.  "By 
Jove  I     Markham's  got  it  that  time." 

84 


The  Castaways 

"Left  hook,"  said  Pope.  "It's  jolted  him,  but 
he  isn't  done  yet." 

Both  gentlemen  held  their  breath  as  the  ^butler 
rose  staggering  to  his  feet  and,  moved  by  a  com- 
mon  impulse,  took  the  opportunity  to  wipe  their 
glasses. 

"Markham's  going  in  for  too  much  footwork," 
grunted  Pope.     "Seems  to  think  it's  a  ballet." 

He  put  up  his  glasses  again,  and  both  gentle- 
men sternly  surveyed  the  stricken  field  and  the  two 
men  who  were  putting  so  beautiful  a  morning  to 
so  base  a  purpose. 

"This  has  got  to  be  stopped,"  said  Carstairs, 
five  minutes  later.  "I  won't  allow  it.  It  mustn't 
go  on.  It — I  can't  see  through  your  elbow,  you 
know,  Pope." 

Pope  apologised.  "Oh,  pretty!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Very  pretty!" 

"Yes,  but  Biggs  has  got  him  again,"  said  Car- 
stairs.  "He's  too  strong  for  him.  Just  throw  on 
a  few  things  and  run  down  to  them,  old  man." 

"Go  yourself,"   said  his   faithful  secretary. 

"Perhaps  it  is  best  to  ignore  it,"  sighed  Car- 
stairs.    "Perhaps Oh,  well  done,  Biggs.    Well 

done." 

The  glasses  remained  motionless,  fixed  on  a 
figure  that  lay  on  its  back  with  a  slack  head  and 

85 


The  Castaways 

drawn  up  knees.  Then  they  followed  slowly  the 
movements  of  Mr.  Biggs  as,  after  a  glance  at  the 
prostrate  butler,  he  bent  over  the  edge  of  the  water 
and  proceeded  to  bathe  his  face. 

"You've  got  pretty  servants,  upon  my  word," 
said  Pope,  as  the  chauffeur,  having)  finished  his 
ablutions,  helped  his  enemy  to  his  feet  and  steadied 
him  into  the  shed.  "What  are  you  going  to  do 
about  it?" 

"Same  as  you  would,"  said  Carstairs;  "give 
Markham  a  rise,  but  without  telling  him  what  it 
is  for.  He  has  given  you  a  very  enjoyable  ten 
minutes." 

Mr.  Pope  grinned  confusedly,  and,  with  some 
indistinct  reference  to  a  pot  and  a  kettle,  girded 
up  his  pink  pyjamas  and  stalked  out  of  the  room. 

Unaware  of  his  employer's  benevolent  ideas,  Mr. 
Markham  spent  the  first  part  of  the  morning 
secreted  in  his  sanctum  with  a  looking-glass  for 
sole  company.  Absence  from  duty  was  explained 
by  that  ever-useful  complaint  known  as  a  bilious 
attack.  The  seventy-ninth  peep  into  the  glass  at 
his  right  eye  seemed  to  indicate  that  the  illness 
would  be  of  unheard-of  duration. 

At  ten  o'clock,  Carstairs  and  Pope  having  gone 
off  motoring  for  the  morning,  he  quitted  his  lair 
and,  taking  advantage  of  all  the  cover  that  offered, 

86 


The  Castaways 

steered  an  erratic  course  for  the  village.  He  had 
heard  of  black  eyes  being  painted,  and,  with  a  vague 
hope  that  Mr.  William  Higgins,  house-painter  and 
decorator,  might  be  equal  to  the  occasion,  called  at 
his  place  of  business. 

He  went  round  to  the  back  of  the  house,  and 
Mr.  Higgins,  who  was  sitting  on  a  broken  chair 
smoking  a  short  clay  and  regarding  the  five  hens 
kept  in  a  wire  entanglement  patched  with  string, 
rose  to  receive  him.  A  slight  but  uncontrollable 
start  he  attributed  to  lumbago. 

Mr.  Markham  plunged  straight  into  business. 
"Can  you  paint  a  black  eye?"  he  inquired  abruptly. 

Mr.  Higgins,  who  had  managed  to  exist  for  fifty 
odd  years  by  never  declining  a  job,  and  always  in- 
sisting upon  being  paid,  whatever  happened,  eyed 
him  calmly. 

"I've  done  scores  of  'em,"  he  asseverated. 

"And  keep  your  mouth  shut?"  inquired  the 
relieved  butler. 

"I  shouldn't  be  in  the  position  what  I  am  in 
if  I  couldn't,"  said  Mr.  Higgins,  with  quiet  dignity. 
"  'Spose  you  take  a  seat  while  I  mix  up  one  or 
two  shades  for  you  to  pick  from." 

He  indicated  the  broken  chair,  and,  fetching  some 
pots  and  colours  from  an  outhouse,  seated  himself 
on  a  box  and  mixed  up  paints  with  a  stick  of  fire- 

87 


The  Castaways 

wood.  Satisfied  at  last,  he  extricated  a  piece  of 
rough  board  from  a  pile  of  litter  and  tried  the 
colours  on  it. 

"They're  all  good,"  he  said  simply.  "Take  your 
pick." 

He  held  the  board  beside  the  butler's  face,  rais- 
ing it  slowly  to  give  each  tint  its  due  appraisement. 
The  selection  made,  he  loaded  his  brush.  Mr. 
Markham  started  back. 

"I'm  not  a  wall,"  he  snapped.  "You  want  a 
camel-hair  brush." 

"You  can  have  a  smaller  brush  if  you  like," 
said  Mr.  Higgins  grudgingly,  "but  camel-'air,  no. 
It  wouldn't  do  me  justice." 

He  disappeared  into  the  house,  and,  returning 
with  a  smaller  brush,  made  the  butler  close  his 
eye,  and  started  operations. 

"Feels  very  stiff,"  said  the  butler,  when  he  had 
finished. 

"That  shows  it's  a  good  job,"  said  the  artist. 
"If  it  didn't  feel  stiff  I  should  know  as  there  was 
something  wrong.  I  only  wish  I'd  got  a  bit  o' 
looking-glass  so  as  you  could  see  yourself." 

His  gaze  was  so  admiring  that  the  butler's  spirits 
rose. 

"Give  it  a  chance  to  dry  even,"  said  Mr.  Higgins, 
pocketing  his  fee ;  "don't  get  laughing,  or  whistling, 

88 


The  Castaways 

or  winking.  It'll  wear  off  gradual,  and  nobody'll 
ever  even  dream  you'd  done  anything  to  be  ashamed 
of.  I  don't  want  to  talk  conceited,  but  it  looks 
better  than  the  other  eye.     More  life-like." 

Mr.  Markham  went  home  in  the  same  furtive 
fashion  that  he  had  left  it,  his  first  two  attempts 
to  "look  the  whole  world  in  the  face"  not  having 
been  as  successful  as  the  encomiums  of  Mr.  Higgins 
had  led  him  to  expect.  He  managed  to  reach  his 
quarters  unobserved,  and,  after  one  horrified  glance 
in  the  glass,  threw  himself  into  a  chair  and  tried 
to  think  out  his  position. 

It  was  clear  that  a  black  eye  would  outlive  a 
bilious  attack,  and,  if  he  absented  himself  from  his 
duties  for  long,  he  would  have  to  submit  to  medi- 
cal treatment.  He  resolved  to  return  to  duty  that 
evening,  and,  if  awkward  questions  were  asked,  to 
attribute  his  condition  to  an  encounter  in  the  dark 
with  a  knob  on  his  bedstead. 

He  took  up  his  work  in  the  dining-room  that 
evening,  and  Mrs.  Ginnell,  who  had  received  a  full 
account  of  his  misadventure  from  Carstairs,  gazed 
at  him  in  undisguised  amazement.  She  transferred 
her  gaze  to  Pope  and  Carstairs,  who,  in  endeavour- 
ing to  avoid  her  eye,  met  that  of  the  butler.  Con- 
versation, at  first  disjointed,  ceased  altogether  be- 
fore the  spectacle  of  a  butler  whose  sudden  increase 

89 


The  Castaways 

of  dignity  was  obviously  inspired  to  counteract  the 
possession  of  a  salmon  -  coloured  eye.  A  slight 
squeaking  noise,  which  everybody  agreed  to  disre- 
gard, escaped  from  Mrs.  Ginnell. 

"Soup's  good,"  said  Pope,  after  a  painful  pause. 

"Excellent,"  agreed  Carstairs.     "I  think " 

Mrs.  Ginnell  was  offending  again.  She  ended 
with  a  moan,  and  her  spoon  slipped  into  her  soup 
as  she  arose  hurriedly  and  made  for  the  door. 
"Not  well,"  she  gasped,  as  she  passed.  "Head- 
ache— don't  trouble." 

The  two  gentlemen  resumed  their  seats,  but  the 
disdainful  glance  of  the  butler  as  he  returned  from 
the  door  was  too  much  for  Pope.  He  got  up  again. 
"Headache,"  he  murmured  brokenly,  with  a  deplor- 
able lack  of  invention.  "Not  well,"  and,  plunging 
at  the  door,  disappeared. 

Carstairs  finished  his  meal  alone,  thankful  that 
the  simmering  Markham  kept  out  of  view  behind 
his  chair.  He  took  a  cup  of  coffee  and  lit  a  cigar, 
starting  as  he  glimpsed  the  butler's  eye  again. 

"Markham,"  he  said  suddenly. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Go  and  wash  that  stuff  off  your  eye  at  once; 
you'll  get  blood-poisoning  if  you  are  not  careful. 
If  it  looks  bad  to-morrow,  go  and  see  a  doctor." 

"Yes,  sir,  thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  butler. 
90 


The  Castaways 

He  poured  out  a  glass  of  port  with  grateful  care, 
and  went  off  to  his  room  rejoicing. 

"If  he  isn't  a  gentleman,"  he  murmured,  as  he 
busied  himself  with  cleansing  the  paint  off,  "he's 
the  best  imitation  I've  ever  seen.  Also,  he's  a 
sportsman." 


9* 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MRS.  GINNELL,  metaphorically  speaking, 
received  Mr.  Knight  with  open  arms, 
Mr.  Peplow,  who  was  standing  by  wait- 
ing to  be  introduced,  being  almost  scandalised  at 
the  warmth  of  their  greeting.  The  correctness  of 
his  own  left  nothing  to  be  desired. 

"A  great  friend  of  mine,"  explained  Mr.  Knight. 
"I've  been  looking  after  him  for  years.  I  don't 
know  where  he  would  have  been  without  me." 

"I  should  have  been  all  right,"  declared  Mr. 
Peplow  indignantly. 

"Gratitude  was  never  his  strong  point,"  sighed 
Knight,  turning  to  Mrs.  Ginnell.  "Didn't  I  get 
my  adopted  aunt  to  give  you  an  invitation  down 
here,  so  that  you  could  hang  around  Miss  Blake?" 
he  demanded.     "Isn't  that  looking  after  you?" 

"Come  in  to  lunch,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Ginnell, 
with  a  laugh.  "The  others  are  out  on  the  car; 
Mr.  Pope  is  learning  to  drive." 

"I  should  like  to  see  the  performance,"  said 
Knight,  seating  himself.     "Is  it  his  first  lesson?" 

"Third,"  said  Mrs.  Ginnell.  "He's  got  the  new 
92 


The  Castaways 

car  to-day;  something  went  wrong  with  the  other. 
He  said  that  the  steering-gear  failed  suddenly." 

"What  did  Biggs  say?"  inquired  Knight,  with  a 
huge  grin. 

"Said  that  Mr.  Pope  kept  his  head  wonder- 
fully— and  got  a  half-sovereign,"  said  Mrs.  GinneU, 
with  a  twinkle. 

"Biggs's  own  steering-gear  is  all  right,  there's 
no  doubt  about  that,"  said  Knight.  "Pity  I  wasn't 
on  the  car;  it  would  have  taken  a  tenner  to  keep 
my  mouth  shut.     Anybody  hurt?" 

Mrs.  Ginnell  shook  her  head. 

"Sir  Edward  Talwyn  was  a  little  bit  shaken,'* 
she  replied,  "but  there  was  no  harm  done." 

"Pity,"  remarked  Knight.  "If  there  had  been 
Biggs  would  have  got  more  than  a  half-sovereign 
from  Freddie.     Do  you  see  much  of  him?" 

"He  comes  over  sometimes,"  said  Mrs.  Ginnell. 
"His  friend,  Captain  Tollhurst,  is  staying  with  him, 
and  they  generally  come  together." 

"What  sort  of  man  is  Tollhurst?"  inquired 
Knight  sharply. 

"He  has  travelled  a  great  deal,  and  had  ad- 
ventures all  over  the  world,"  said  Mrs.  Ginnell. 
"Mr.  Pope  generally  sits  listening  to  him  with  his 
mouth  open.     You'll  see  him  on  Friday." 

Mr.  Knight  pondered. 
93 


The  Castaways 

"Young?"  he  inquired.     "Good-looking?" 

"Thirty-five  to  forty,  I  should  think.  I  shouldn't 
call  him  good-looking." 

"Good-looking  as  I  am?" 

"Better,"  replied  Mrs.  Ginnell,  without  hesita- 
tion. 

"If  you  want  to  laugh,  Freddie,  laugh,"  said 
Mr.  Knight  severely.  "Don't  make  that  silly  noise 
in  your  plate.  When  you  know  Mrs.  Ginnell  better 
you'll  know  that  she  often  says  the  opposite  to  what 
she  means.     It's  her  idea  of  a  joke." 

"Quite  true,"  murmured  the  repentant  Mrs. 
Ginnell,  beaming  at  him. 

"Your  apology  is  accepted,"  said  Knight. 
"Freddie,  I  am  waiting  for  yours." 

"Anything  you  like,"  said  Mr.  Peplow,  who  was 
attacking  his  food  with  great  satisfaction.  "Make 
.  it  up  yourself,  and  I'll  sign  it." 

He  finished  an  excellent  meal  with  a  gentle  sigh 
of  satisfaction,  and  at  Mrs.  Ginnell's  suggestion 
adjourned  to  the  terrace  for  coffee  and  cigarettes. 

"I  trust  you  are  being  very  nice  to  Lady  Pen- 
rose," said  Knight  to  his  hostess. 

"It  is  a  very  easy  thing  to  do,"  she  replied. 
"I  like  her  very  much." 

"And  Mrs.  Jardine?"  said  Mr.  Peplow. 

"And  Mrs.  Jardine,"  assented  Mrs.  Ginnell. 
94 


The  Castaways 

"I  have  to  like  her  because  I  like  her  niece,  Effie 
Blake,  so  much." 

"Everybody  does,"  said  Mr.  Peplow,  with  a 
gratified  flush. 

"What  they  will  both  say  when  they  discover 
that  I  know  you  I  can't  imagine,"  continued  Mrs. 
Ginnell. 

"They  will  be  surprised,"  said  Knight,  "not  to 
say  suspicious.  Let  me  see,  where  did  we  meet? 
Mentone,  wasn't  it?" 

"Let's  leave  it,"  said  Mrs.  Ginnell.  "Don't  let's 
take  up  troubles  before  they  come.  Very  often  they 
don't  come  at  all." 

"I  ought  to  have  left  Freddie  behind,"  said 
Knight  thoughtfully.  "Two  is  rather  overdoing 
it.  But  if  you  had  seen  the  tears  well  up  in  his 
beautiful  eyes  when  I  suggested  it " 

"Anybody  would  think  this  was  your  place,"  said 
the  irritated  Mr.  Peplow. 

"It's  my  aunt,"  said  Knight.  "I  adopted  her 
in  the  first  instance  to  serve  my  own  ends.  After 
that  I  adopted  her  for  herself." 

"It's  what  I  should  have  done  in  the  first  place," 
said  Mr.  Peplow  unexpectedly. 

Mrs.  Ginnell  rose. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  seen  blushing  at  my  time 
of  life,"  she  remarked.    "Come  round  to  the  stables 

95 


The  Castaways 

and  see  my  new  pony  and  cart.     James  gave  it  to 
me  last  week." 

"And  now,"  said  Knight,  taking  her  arm  after 
the  pony  had  been  duly  admired,  "come  for  a 
stroll  with  me  'neath  yon  lofty  elms  and  talk  busi- 
ness. What  do  you  think  Peplow  ought  to  wear 
on  Friday?  And  shall  we  discover  ourselves  at 
once,  or  mix  with  the  crowd  and  be  picked  up 
later,  like  a  couple  of  lovely  shells  on  a  beach?" 

"Later,  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Ginnell.  "There  will 
be  a  lot  of  people  here,  and  you  can  emerge  from 
them  after  a  time  and  renew  your  acquaintance  with 
Lady  Penrose." 

Mr.  Knight  nodded,  and  carried  out  his  instruc- 
tions so  thoroughly  that  he  was  quite  disconcerted 
at  the  measure  of  his  success.  With  Mr.  Peplow 
by  his  side  on  Friday  afternoon  he  appeared  from 
the  direction  of  the  lake,  and,  observing  the  fig- 
ure of  Carstairs  on  the  terrace,  bore  swiftly  down 
upon  it. 

"Having  a  good  time?"  inquired  Carstairs. 

Mr.  Knight  looked  at  Mr.  Peplow.  Mr.  Pep- 
low sighed. 

"Excellent,"  said  Knight  bitterly.  "This  is  too 
bad  of  you,  Carstairs.     It  really  is." 

Carstairs  raised  his  eyebrows. 
96 


The  Castaways 

"Of  course,  it's  not  exactly  your  fault,"  continued 
Knight.     "We  don't  say  that,  do  we,  Freddie?" 

Mr.  Peplow,  who  was  looking  somewhat  dis- 
agreeable, hesitated.  "It's  his  lake,  or  pond,  or 
whatever  you  call  it,"  he  said,  at  length. 

"So  it  is,"  said  Knight,  nodding,  "so  it  is.  It 
ought  to  be  filled  up.  It's  a  man-trap,  a  positive 
man-trap." 

"You  used  to  admire  it,"  said  Carstairs. 

"We  all  have  our  weak  moments,"  said  Knight. 
"My  settled  opinion  now  is  that  it  spoils  the  place. 
If  it  belonged  to  me  I  should  either  have  it  filled 
up  or  keep  women-eating  crocodiles  in  it." 

"It  might  spoil  the  bathing,"  said  Carstairs.  "But 
what  is  the  matter?" 

"Matter  is  we've  been  hurt  in  our  finest  feel- 
ings," said  Knight.  "We've  been  laughed  at.  We've 
been  held  up  to  the  derision  of  Tollhursts  and 
Talwyns.  Not  to  mention  others.  I  thought  this 
garden-party  was  got  up  for  us." 

"It  was  partly,"  said  Carstairs,  with  a  smile. 

"Listen  to  him,  Freddie,"  said  Knight. 

"I  am,"  responded  his  friend. 

"I've  never  been  made  such  a  fool  of  in  my  life," 
continued  Knight.  "I  came  down  here  to  see  Miss 
Seacombe,  and  Freddie  came  to  see  Miss  Blake, 

97 


The  Castaways 

and  when  they  are  not  gummed  to  the  dragons  we 
are. 

"Gummed?"  repeated  the  amazed  Carstairs. 
"Dragons?" 

"Lady  Penrose  and  Mrs.  Jardine,"  explained 
Mr.  Peplow  while  his  friend  was  taking  breath. 
"Mrs.  Jardine  is  the  worst — she  is  an  old  fortune- 
hunter.  When  she  is  not  with  Miss  Blake  the 
poor  girl  has  always  got  Talwyn  at  her  elbow." 

Carstairs  surveyed  him  mildly.  "But  what  has 
all  this  got  to  do  with  my  lake?"  he  inquired. 

"We've  been  on  it,"  said  Knight  savagely.  "I 
might  have  guessed  Lady  Penrose  was  up  to  some- 
thing or  other;  she  was  so  agreeable.  Seemed  quite 
pleased  to  see  me.  She  asked  us  to  take  her  and 
Mrs.  Jardine  on  the  lake  for  five  minutes,  and 
we've  been  sculling  round  and  round  that  idiotic 
little  duck-pond  for  hours." 

"Seemed  like  a  lifetime,"  said  Peplow  dismally. 
"Jack  had  to  read  poetry  to  Lady  Penrose  while 
I  rowed." 

"She  brought  the  book  with  her,"  said  Knight, 
reddening.  "She  did  it  on  purpose;  she  must  have 
known  I  was  coming.  She's  been  laughing  at  me 
ail  the  time.     I  could  see  it  in  her  eye." 

"They've  all  been  laughing  at  us,  I  believe,"  said 
Peplow.     "Talwyn  was  looking  quite  intelligent.     I 

98 


The  Castaways 

must  say  I  never  heard  the  'Lady  of  Shalott'  read 
as  Jack  read  it.  Never!  Sounded  more  like  the 
'Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade.'  " 

"Never  felt  such  a  fool  in  my  life,"  affirmed 
Knight.  "And  that  fellow  Tollhurst  had  the  im- 
pudence to  walk  along  following  the  boat,  with 
Miss  Seacombe." 

"Both  smiling,  and  pretending  not  to,"  added 
Mr.  Peplow  solemnly.  "I  never  felt  so  sorry  for 
Jack  in  all  my  life.     He  looked  a  perfect  fool." 

"You  mind  your  own  business,"  said  his  friend 
sharply. 

"You  can't  expect  to  have  it  all  your  own  way," 
said  Carstairs.  "Lady  Penrose  was  too  smart  for 
you  that  time.  You  should  have  entered  into  the 
joke  and  read  the  poem  soulfully.  I  am  disap- 
pointed in  you,  Knight." 

"I  thought  he  was  on  the  wrong  tack,  too,"  said 
Mr.  Peplow.  "I  did  try  to  wink  once,  but  Mrs. 
Jardine  got  it,  and  I  had  to  pretend  I'd  got  a  fly 
in  my  eye." 

"Well,  run  away  and  play,"  said  Carstairs,  in- 
terrupting a  choice  remark  of  Knight's.  "You 
mustn't  be  seen  weeping  on  my  shoulder.  Don't 
bother  the  girls  with  your  attentions;  make  your- 
selves agreeable  to  other  people." 

He  turned  away,  and  Knight  and  Peplow  after 
99 


The  Castaways 

a  moment's  hesitation  set  off  to  make  themselves 
agreeable  to  such  unfortunates  as  might  have  the 
ill-luck  to  encounter  them.  Carstairs  stood  smiling, 
and  then,  seeing  Lady  Penrose  and  Mrs.  Jardine 
approaching  from  the  opposite  direction,  went  to 
meet  them. 

"I  want  some  tea,"  said  Lady  Penrose,  as  he 
turned  and  walked  with  them.  "We  have  been 
on  the  water,  and  come  off  hungry." 

"Rowing?"  asked  Carstairs. 

Lady  Penrose  shook  her  head.  "No,  I  have 
been  sitting  in  the  lap  of  luxury  listening  to  poetry," 
she  said,  with  a  faint  smile.  "Mr.  Knight  read  the 
'Lady  of  Shalott'  to  us.  It  seemed  so  appropriate 
to  float  on  the  placid  waters  of  the  lake  and  have 
that  read  to  one.     Wasn't  it  sweet?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine  dubiously, 
"but  I  thought  that  Mr.  Knight  hadn't  quite  caught 
the  spirit  of  it." 

"M-m,"  said  Lady  Penrose,  as  Carstairs  led 
them  to  chairs.  "I  enjoyed  it  tremendously;  sur- 
roundings, perhaps." 

"I  never  suspected  Knight  of  a  feeling  for 
poetry,"  said  Carstairs  innocently.  "I  thought  he 
was  quite  an  out-of-door  man.  But  it  is  never  safe 
to  judge  by  appearances.     Did  he  volunteer?" 

ioo 


The  Castaways 

''Not  exactly,"  said  Lady  Penrose.  "Yes,  two 
lumps,  please.     Oh,  here  comes  the   Baron!" 

"Baron!"  repeated  Carstairs. 

"Mrs.  Jardine  always  refers  to  Captain  Toll- 
hurst  as  Baron  Munchausen,  for  some  reason,"  ex- 
plained Lady  Penrose. 

"Isabel!  I  never  do,"  said  the  justly  shocked 
Mrs.  Jardine. 

"Well,  you  always  know  whom  I  mean  when  I 
do,"  replied  her  friend. 

"Quite  a  different  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine 
primly  as  the  unsuspecting  captain  came  towards 
them,  followed  by  Pope,  and  sat  down  at  the  next 
table. 

"I  saw  you  on  the  water,  Lady  Penrose,"  he 
said,  leaning  towards  her  with  a  significant  smile. 

"I  am  fond  of  the  water,  especially  when  some- 
body else  does  the  hard  work,"  was  the  reply. 

"Not  much  hard  work  on  that  water,"  said  the 
captain  smiling.  "I  should  like  to  take  you  canoe- 
ing on  the  rapids,  Lady  Penrose." 

"I  thought  they  were  dangerous,"  said  Lady 
Penrose  sweetly. 

"We  haven't  all  got  your  courage,  Captain  Toll- 
hurst,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine. 

"No  question  of  courage,  I  assure  you,"  said 
the  captain  modestly.     "A  little  nerve,  perhaps." 

IOI 


The  Castaways 

"Well,  you've  got  that,  Tollhurst,"  said  the  ad- 
miring Pope.  "In  the  matter  of  nerve  I  should 
think  you  would  be  hard  to  beat.  Tell  them  about 
the  tiger  you  shot.  The  one  that  got  you  down, 
I  mean.     It  made  me  go  cold  all  over." 

"Do  tell  us,  Captain  Tollhurst,"  said  Lady  Pen- 
rose languidly.     "I  am  so  warm." 

"Oh,  it  was  nothing,"  said  the  captain,with  a  slight 
laugh.  "Pope  happened  to  get  on  the  subject  of 
tigers  this  afternoon,  and  it  reminded  me.  Brute 
sprang  out  on  me  from  the  jungle  and  knocked  me 
over,  and  I  shot  it  from  my  pocket  with  a  revolver." 

"Fancy!"  said  Pope,  with  the  air  of  a  showman. 
"Through  his  pocket.     He  hadn't  time  to  draw." 

"Must  have  seemed  like  a  conjuring  trick  to  the 
poor  thing,"  said  Lady  Penrose.     "Was  it  hurt?" 

"Smashed  its  jaw,"  said  Pope,  speaking  for  the 
captain.     "His  second  shot  killed  it." 

"How  dreadful!"  said  Lady  Penrose,  with  a  care- 
less shudder.  "I'm  so  fond  of  animals.  I  belong 
to  the  Society,  you  know." 

"Been  more  dreadful  if  it  had  killed  Tollhurst," 
said  Pope,  staring  at  her. 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Penrose  reflectively  as  Captain 
Tollhurst  raised  his  cup  and  took  a  couple  of  hasty 
gulps.    "Yes,  I  suppose  it  would." 


102 


CHAPTER    IX 

THERE  was  a  little  lull  in  the  conversation, 
of  which  Lady  Penrose,  gazing  dreamily 
at  the  landscape,  seemed  serenely  uncon- 
scious. It  was  broken  by  Mr.  Pope  paying,  in  low 
tones,  a  compliment  to  the  perfections  of  the  tea- 
cake  he  was  consuming. 

"Somebody  is  in  a  hurry,"  said  Carstairs,  looking 
round  at  the  sound  of  rapidly  approaching  footsteps. 
"Why,  Miss  Blake !" 

The  girl,  who  had  appeared  suddenly  round  the 
side  of  the  house,  walking  at  a  tremendous  pace, 
took  a  laughing  breath,  and,  throwing  herself  into 
a  chair,  pressed  her  hand  to  her  side  and  said  "Oh !" 

"What  is  the  matter,  Effie?"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Jardine. 

"Oh!"  said  Miss  Blake  again.  "Oh  my!"  she 
added. 

Miss  Seacombe  appeared  at  that  moment,  also 
walking  with  what  Mrs.  Jardine  considered  unfem- 
inine  rapidity;  the  two  girls  exchanged  glances  and 
laughed. 

103 


The  Castaways 

r 

"What  have  you  been  doing?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Jardine. 

Miss  Blake's  dark  eyes  twinkled  demurely. 
"Nothing,"  she  replied  softly. 

"We've  had  a  walking-race  with  Sir  Edward," 
explained  Miss  Seacombe.     "Effie  won." 

"Walking  race?"  repeated  Mrs.  Jardine,  rising 
and  looking  about  her.  "On  a  hot  day  like  this? 
Where  is  Sir  Edward?" 

Miss  Blake  shook  her  head.  "He's  a  bad  third," 
she  said,  smiling.  "He  is  doing  his  best,  but  I  don't 
think  he  is  in  very  good  condition.  Oh,  here  he 
comes.     Poor  man!" 

A  little  chorus  of  sympathy  greeted  Sir  Edward 
and  added  to  his  annoyance.  He  paused  as  he 
reached  the  group,  and,  straightening  his  tall,  wil- 
lowy figure,  essayed  a  smile.  His  hat  was  in  his 
hand,  and  exercise  on  a  hot  day  had  played  havoc 
with  the  thin  locks  trained  across  the  top  of  his 
head. 

"Oh,  Sir  Edward,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Jardine,  in 
great  concern ;  "how  inadvisable  to  make  these  girls 
run  on  such  a  hot  day!  But  there — young  men 
never  will  be  reasonable." 

"Exercise,"  replied  Talwyn,  with  an  effort.  "I — 
I've  quite  en — enjoyed  it.  I  am  glad  I  didn't  win, 
though;  it  wouldn't  have  been  polite." 

104 


The  Castaways 

"It  was  easy  for  you  to  be  polite  in  this  case," 
murmured  Miss  Blake,  as  he  sank  into  a  chair  and 
wiped  his  hot  face.     "What  are  you  smiling  at?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Talwyn  feebly. 

"If  you  mean  to  suggest  that  you  let  us  win,"  said 
the  justly  indignant  Miss  Blake,  "it's  disgraceful." 

"I  didn't  say  so,"  muttered  Talwyn  defensively. 

"It's  men  all  over,"  continued  the  experienced 
maiden.  "They  always  pretend  that  they  are  supe- 
rior in  everything.  A  woman  can  do  anything  that 
a  man  can  do.     Mind  that !" 

"And  do  it  better,"  added  Miss  Seacombe,  with 
a  challenging  glance  around. 

"We  simply  ran  away  from  him,"  declared  her 
friend. 

"Ah!  there  you  are,"  said  Talwyn.  "You — you 
oughtn't  to  have  run  in  a  walking-match,  you  know." 

Miss  Seacombe  put  her  cup  and  saucer  down  with 
a  little  crash.  "O-oh!"  she  gasped.  "The  idea! 
We'll  have  it  over  again,  Effie,  and  Captain  Toll- 
hurst  and  Mr.  Pope  shall  umpire.  Come  along, 
Sir  Edward." 

A  faint  remark  of  Mr.  Pope's  concerning  the  heat 
passed  unnoticed.  The  girls  rose  and  stood  waiting, 
and  Talwyn,  tugging  at  the  ends  of  his  long,  droop- 
ing moustache,  followed  suit. 

"Effie!"  said  Mrs.  Jardine  sharply.  "I  won't 
105 


The  Castaways 

have  such  nonsense.  It  is  much  too  hot,  and  be- 
sidei " 

"Sir  Edward  wants  to,"  said  her  niece.  "Don't 
you,  Sir  Edward?" 

"Of  course,"  said  Talwyn;  "if  you  wish  it.  And 
if  you  don't  think  it  is  too  hot  for  you." 

"Go  ahead,"  breathed  Tollhurst  in  his  ear.  "I'll 
disqualify  'em.  Come  along,  Pope,"  he  added 
loudly. 

"How  absurd!"  said  Mrs.  Jardine,  as  competitors 
and  umpires  moved  off.  "Really  I  feel  quite  an- 
noyed with  Effie.  I  don't  know  what  young  women 
of  the  present  day  are  coming  to.     I  don't,  indeed." 

Carstairs  shook  his  head  in  sympathy.  "Don't 
worry,  Mrs.  Jardine,"  he  said  gently,  "I  feel  sure 
she  will  win  again." 

"Win!"  repeated  the  perturbed  lady.  "Win!  I 
don't  mind  a  scrap  whether  she  wins  or  not.  That 
is  not  troubling  me  at  all.  Poor  Sir  Edward,"  she 
added,  turning  to  Lady  Penrose.  "Such  a  good- 
natured  man.     Most  unselfish." 

"It  is  hard  work  for  a  man  of  his  age,"  said  Car- 
stairs.  "Why  didn't  they  challenge  the  boys  ?  They 
would  have  enjoyed  it." 

"Boys!"  repeated  Mrs.  Jardine,  with  lifted  eye- 
brows. 

"Knight  and  Peplow,"  explained  Carstairs.  "The 
106 


The  Castaways 

two  young  men  who  are  staying  here.  You  know 
them  slightly,  I  think." 

Mrs.  Jardine  admitted  the  soft  impeachment  by 
a  faint  sniff.    "Very  slightly,"  she  said,  after  a  pause. 

"Have  you  known  the  boys,  as  you  call  them,  for 
long,  Mr.  Carstairs?"  inquired  Lady  Penrose. 

"Some  time,"  said  Carstairs,  with  nicely  gradu- 
ated truthfulness.  "Knight  is  a  great  friend  of  my 
aunt's.     Nice  bright  lads,  I  think." 

"Lads !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Jardine. 

"They  seem  like  it  to  my  advanced  years,"  said 
Carstairs,  with  a  grimace.  "After  all,  they  are  not 
much  more,  are  they  ?  I  suppose  they  have  deserted 
the  ladies  in  favour  of  a  little  exercise.  Young  men 
prefer  sport  even  to  reading  poetry  to  the  most 
charming  of  audiences." 

Lady  Penrose  laughed.  "I  had  an  idea  that  they 
were  rather  fond  of  ladies'  society,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  they  are  polite  and  attentive  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  of  course,"  said  Carstairs  carelessly; 
"but  in  their  heart  of  hearts  they  prefer  cricket. 
I  know  that  I  did." 

"And  don't  you?"  inquired  Lady  Penrose. 

"Time  has  affected  my  tastes,  as  no  doubt  it  will 
affect  theirs,"  was  the  reply.  "In  another  ten  years 
or  so  they  will  probably  be  thinking  of  marrying." 

107 


The  Castaways 

"It  is  possible  that  they  are  thinking  of  it  already," 
said  Mrs.  Jardine  primly. 

Carstairs  shook  his  head.  "Not  at  their  age," 
he  said  decidedly.  "They  have  their  way  to  make 
yet." 

"Young  men  don't  always  think  of  that,"  retorted 
Mrs.  Jardine  tartly. 

"True,"  said  Carstairs.  "True.  You  are  quite 
right.  I  suppose  half  the  misery  in  the  -world  is 
caused  by  rash  and  improvident  marriages." 

"And  the  other  half,  Mr.  Carstairs?"  said  Lady 
Penrose  languidly. 

"By  not  marrying  at  all." 

Mrs.  Jardine  suppressed  a  startled  little  cough, 
and  endeavoured,  but  in  vain,  to  exchange  glances 
with  her  friend.  She  returned  to  the  subject  in 
hand. 

"Young  people  are  very  apt  to  form  foolish  at- 
tachments," she  said,  shaking  her  head.  "One  might 
call  them  entanglements." 

Carstairs  nodded  wisely.  "Just  so,"  he  said 
slowly.  "Young  people  are  naturally  impetuous. 
But  there  are  easy  cures  for  the  most  desperate 
cases,  I  think." 

"Cures?"  said  Mrs.  Jardine. 

"Change  of  scene,"  said  Carstairs  confidently, 
108 


The  Castaways 

"fresh  interests,  other  affinities.  They  soon  for- 
get." 

Lady  Penrose  regarded  him  with  amusement. 
"Dear  me !  What  a  lot  of  experience  you  must 
have  had!"  she  murmured. 

"I  never  had  more  than  a  month's  holiday,  you 
know,"  he  reminded  her.  "At  the  most  dangerous 
age  I  only  had  a  fortnight." 

"And  you  found  that  sufficient  for  purposes  of 
obliteration?" 

"I  dare  say  it  would  have  been,"  said  Carstairs. 

"And  how  long  would  you  give  yourself  now?" 

Carstairs  looked  up,  and  their  eyes  met.  "Trip 
round  the  world,  I  think,"  he  said,  with  marked 
deliberation. 

Lady  Penrose  gave  a  slight  laugh.  "You  are 
improving,"  she  said. 

"And,  of  course,  even  that  might  not  be  success- 
ful," said  Carstairs  musingly. 

"It  might  not,"  said  Lady  Penrose,  who  found 
Mrs.  Jardine's  expression  somewhat  trying.  "Still, 
it  is  no  good  taking  up  trouble  before  it  comes." 

"Let  us  hope  it  will  not  come,"  said  Carstairs 
piously.     "The  trouble  part,  I  mean." 

"Here  comes  Sir  Edward,"  said  Lady  Penrose, 
with  an  abrupt  change  of  subject.     "He  must  have 

109 


The  Castaways 

won,  I  think;  he  is  looking  very  pleased  with  him- 
self." 

"No,"  said  Talwyn,  with  an  effort  to  look  dis- 
comfited, "I  didn't  win.  Too  bad.  I  was  disquali- 
fied almost  at  the  start.  Pope  and  Tollhurst  were 
both  against  me,  so  I  had  to  retire.  They  wouldn't 
listen  to  me." 

Mrs.  Jardine  made  a  slight  noise,  intended  for 
sympathy.     "Where  are  the  others?"  she  inquired. 

Talwyn's  grin  would  not  be  denied.  "Still  rac- 
ing," he  said,  in  an  indistinct  voice,  and  covered 
his  mouth  with  his  hand. 

He  lit  a  cigarette,  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  earned  his  rest. 

"Very  stiff,  Pope  and  Tollhurst,"  he  remarked. 
"No  arguing  with  them." 

"But  why  didn't  the  ladies  retire  when  you  were 
disqualified?"  inquired  Carstairs. 

Talwyn  suddenly  caressed  his  moustache  again. 
"I  was  a  little  way  behind,"  he  said,  with  an  effort. 
"Perhaps  they  didn't  know." 

"Poor  things!"  said  Lady  Penrose  indignantly. 
"Straining  every  nerve  to  beat  a  man  who  is  lolling 
in  an  easy  chair,  smoking." 

"They're  very  keen,"  said  Talwyn.  "It  was  a 
pleasure  to  see  them.  Both  of  them  looking  straight 
to  their  front  and  slogging  away  for  all  they  were 

no 


The  Castaways 

worth.  Pope  and  Tollhurst  had  to  trot  to  keep  up 
with  them.  Pope  looked  as  though  he  might  have 
a  temperature." 

He  gave  a  little  sigh  of  satisfaction,  and,  stretch- 
ing out  his  legs,  sat  gazing  at  his  boots.  "As  a 
matter  of  fact,"  he  said,  after  an  interval,  "I  never 
was  very  fond  of  the  strenuous  life.  I've  had  to 
live  it  when  travelling  sometimes,  but  it  was  from 
necessity,  not  choice." 

"At  our  age "  began  Carstairs. 

"I  was  always  like  it,"  interrupted  Talwyn  hastily. 

Carstairs  eyed  him  thoughtfully.  "Do  you  like 
shipboard?"  he  inquired.     "There's  not  much  hard 

work  there.      I've  been  thinking  lately I've 

been  wondering  whether  I  wouldn't  go  for  a  cruise." 

"P.  and  O. !"  said  Talwyn  decidedly.  "You  can't 
beat  it." 

"I  was  thinking  of  something  different,"  said  Car- 
stairs. "My  idea  was  a  yacht.  If  I  could  get  a 
few  friends  to  come  with  me  and  keep  me  company, 
I  think  it  would  be  nice  to  hire  a  steam  yacht  and 
go  cruising  at  our  pleasure.     What  do  you  think?" 

"Ripping!"  ejaculated  the  other.  "If  you  could 
get  the  right  people,"  he  added,  with  a  glance  at 
Mrs.  Jardine. 

"Everything  depends  upon  that,  of  course,"  said 
in 


The  Castaways 

Carstairs.  "If  Lady  Penrose  and  Mrs.  Jardine 
would  do  me  the  honour -" 

The  two  ladies  looked  at  each  other  in  surprise. 
It  is  one  thing  to  go  to  a  friend's  house  and  drink  a 
cup  of  tea,  but  a  cruise — a  long  cruise,  perhaps! 
Their  thoughts  flew  to  clothes. 

"Would  you  be  away  for  long?"  inquired  Lady 
Penrose. 

"As  long  as  you  like,"  was  the  reply.  A  reply 
which  set  Talwyn  and  Mrs.  Jardine  gazing  at  each 
other. 

"When  do  you  propose  to  start?"  asked  Lady 
Penrose. 

"October,  I  thought.  Have  the  summer  here  and 
go  South  for  the  winter." 

"It  sounds  delightful,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine,  with 
another  glance  at  Talwyn.  "I  suppose  my  niece  is 
included  in  the  invitation?" 

"Of  course,"  said  Carstairs;  "and  Miss  Sea- 
combe." 

"She  can't  go  unless  I  go,"  said  Lady  Penrose 
thoughtfully. 

"Exactly,"  said  Carstairs. 

Lady  Penrose  coloured  a  little.  "It  is  very  kind 
of  you,"  she  said  slowly.     "I  must  think  it  over." 

"We  will  both  think  it  over,  if  we  may,"  said 
Mrs.  Jardine.     "It  is  very  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Car- 

112 


The  Castaways 

stairs.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned  the  proposal  is 
most  tempting." 

"Noise  heard  without,"  said  Talwyn  suddenly, 
with  an  uneasy  attempt  at  facetiousness. 

"It  is  Effie,  principally,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine,  in 
resigned  accents. 

Miss  Blake's  voice  was  certainly  high,  but  so  also 
was  Miss  Seacombe's.  An  apologetic,  low-toned 
rumble  appeared  to  belong  to  Messrs.  Tollhurst  and 
Pope.     Talwyn  shifted  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"Here  is  the  athlete !"  exclaimed  Miss  Blake, 
coming  up  and  regarding  him  fixedly. 

"I  was  disqualified,"  murmured  Talwyn,  rising. 

Miss  Blake  wiped  her  hot  face  and  turned  to  her 
friend,  scorning  to  notice  the  amused  glances  that 
were  passing  between  the  men.  Her  own  expression 
reminded  one  of  a  cat  that  has  lost  a  particularly 
fine  mouse  through  its  own  stupidity. 

"Who  won?"  inquired  the  venturesome  Talwyn. 

Miss  Blake's  face  took  on  a  deeper  shade,  but  she 
made  no  reply. 

"We  had  to  disqualify  'em  both,"  said  Pope,  in 
tones  of  oily  regret.  "And  within  twenty  yards  of 
the  finish.     Awful  pity." 

"Why  didn't  you  let  us  know  that  Sir  Edward 
had  given  up?"  demanded  Miss  Seacombe. 

"Disqualified,"  corrected  Talwyn. 

113 


The  Castaways 

"It's  not  usual,"  said  Pope.  "There  is  no  reason 
for  telling  the  other  competitors.    It  is  never  done." 

"Never,"  corroborated  Tollhurst.  "What  good 
would  it  have  done  you?" 

"Might  have  put  you  off  your  stroke,"  said  Pope. 
"You  were  walking  splendidly  at  the  time.  It  was 
a  pleasure  to  watch  you.     I  quite  enjoyed  it." 

"I've  no  doubt,"  said  Miss  Blake  bitterly.  "That 
is  men  all  over,"  she  added  cryptically. 

She  threw  herself  into  a  chair,  and  after  a  slight 
struggle  with  herself  accepted  a  glass  of  iced  lem- 
onade from  the  hands  of  Carstairs.  A  suggestion 
from  Pope  that  the  race  should  be  walked  over 
again — with  other  umpires — was  received  with  silent 
disdain. 

"Been  having  a  most  interesting  conversation 
while  you  were  amusing  yourselves,"  said  Talwyn 
to  Pope.  "Carstairs  is  talking  of  chartering  a  yacht 
and  taking  us  all  to  foreign  climes." 

"O-oh!"  said  Miss  Blake,  clasping  her  hands  and 
turning  on  Carstairs  a  smile  that  dazzled  him.  "If 
all  men  were  like  him !" 

"Even  only  a  little  bit  like  him,"  said  Miss  Sea- 
combe,  with  a  hostile  glance  at  the  other  three. 

"Where  are  we  going?  when  do  we  start?"  in- 
quired Miss  Blake,  turning  to  Carstairs  again. 

"There  is  nothing  settled  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine. 
114 


The  Castaways 

"Mr.   Carstairs  has  only  just  mentioned  it,  and  I 
am  not  sure  that  we  can  go.     Not  at  all  sure." 

"I  am  going,"  said  her  niece  decisively.  "If  I 
can't  go  as  a  passenger,  I  shall  go  as  a  stowaway. 
But  you  are  a  splendid  sailor,  aunt,  and  a  voyage 
would  do  you  good.  You  haven't  been  looking  quite 
yourself  for  a  long  time." 

"I'm  well  enough,  thank  you,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Jardine. 

"And  it  would  do  me  good,"  continued  Miss 
Blake.     "I  have  not  said  anything  about  it,  but  for 

some  time  past It  is  not  a  laughing  matter, 

Mr.  Pope." 

"Sorry,"  said  the  offender  humbly.  "You  look 
the  picture  of  health.    And  the  way  you  walk!" 

"Appearances  are  deceptive,"  said  Miss  Blake 
coldly. 

"If  your  health  is  in  inverse  ratio  to  your  ap- 
pearance, and  performances,  you  ought  to  see  a 
doctor,"  said  Pope  solemnly. 

"Three  doctors,"  said  Carstairs,  regarding  her 
closely. 

"I  am  not  going  to  quarrel  with  you"  said  Miss 
Blake,  smiling  at  him.  "Do  come  and  sit  here  and 
tell  me  all  about  it.     Is  Mrs.  Ginnell  coming?" 

"Most  certainly — if  we  go.  She  is  quite  enthu- 
siastic about  it." 

ii5 


The  Castaways 

"If  we  go!"  repeated  Miss  Blake. 

"We  don't  care  to  go  alone,"  said  Carstairs. 
"You  must  talk  to  Mrs.  Jardine  about  it.  Talk  to 
her  about  your  health.  I  fancy  from  her  manner 
that  she  does  not  quite  realise  what  a  serious  con- 
dition you  are  in.  A  long  voyage,  with  pleasant 
society,  might  restore  you.  And,  of  course,  we  will 
take  a  doctor." 


116 


w 


CHAPTER  X 

'^^  "•'HAT  is  all  this  talk  about  a  yacht?" 
inquired  Knight,  as  they  sat  smoking 
in  Pope's  room  after  dinner  that  night. 

"Yacht?"  said  Carstairs,  looking  up. 

"Thing  that  floats  on  the  water  and  is  propelled 
by  sails  or  steam,"  said  Knight  dryly. 

"I've  read  of  'em,"  said  Pope,  tenderly  removing 
the  band  from  a  fat  cigar.  "In  fact,  I  have  occa- 
sionally seen  them.  Graceful  things,  most  of  them. 
Sit  the  water  so  well.  There  is  something  about  a 
yacht " 

"Yes,  I  know,"  interrupted  Knight.  "That's  just 
what  I  want  to  get  at.  What  is  all  this  about  a 
yacht?" 

"I  had  an  idea  of  hiring  one,"  said  Carstairs 
mildly,  "and  sailing  away  to  distant  solitudes  in 
search  of  peace." 

"Far  from  the  young  and  their  noisy  methods," 
added  Pope,  with  a  grin. 

"Curious  thing  is,  they  haven't  said  anything  to 
us  about  it,"  said  Knight,  with  a  perplexed  look  at 

117 


The  Castaways 

Peplow.    "What  does  it  mean,  Freddie — any  idea  ?" 

Mr.  Peplow  coughed. 

"It's  a  perfect  bombshell,"  pursued  Knight.  "It 
has  blown  all  my  arrangements  to  the  winds.  I  was 
going  to  Scotland  for  two  or  three  months  in  the 
autumn  to  stay  with  an  uncle.  This  will  be  the 
second  year  I  shall  disappoint  the  old  chap.  He 
won't  like  it,  I'm  afraid." 

"Who  told  you  anything  about  it?"  demanded 
Carstairs. 

"Mrs.  Ginnell,"  replied  Knight.  "She  is  quite 
excited  about  it.  She  has  gone  to  the  library  to 
read  books  of  travel  and  furbish  up  her  geography. 
I'm  afraid  I  rather  disappointed  her.  I  told  her 
that  I  could  only  accept  provisionally." 

"Provisionally?"  repeated  Carstairs,  staring  at 
him. 

Knight  nodded.  "I  don't  go  unless  Miss  Sea- 
combe  goes,  of  course,"  he  replied.  "You  couldn't 
expect  it,  Carstairs,  and  wild  horses  and  a  steam 
crane  combined  wouldn't  get  Freddie  on  board  un- 
less Miss  Blake  goes.    He  is  quiet,  but  determined." 

"And  it  is  quite  possible  that  if  you  go  they 
won't,"  said  Carstairs.  "I  wasn't  going  to  say  any- 
thing to  you  about  it  yet,  but  I  forgot  to  warn  my 
aunt.  She  is  as  precipitate  as  you  are.  She  is  much 
too  young  for  her  years." 

118 


The  Castaways 

"But  you  couldn't  go  without  us,"  said  Knight. 
"I  mean,  you  wouldn't." 

"Never  knew  him  to  put  his  tail  down  like  that 
before,"  murmured  Pope,  who  was  sitting  by  the 
open  window  looking  at  the  moonlight. 

"We  oughtn't  to  have  come  down  here,"  said 
Knight  thoughtfully.  "You  ought  to  have  sprung 
us  as  a  pleasant  surprise  at  the  last  moment." 

"Quite  impossible,"  said  Carstairs.  "It  would 
look  far  too  much  of  a  put-up  job.  I  had  to  let 
Lady  Penrose  know  that  we  were  acquainted.  Hence 
the  reason — one  of  them,  I  mean — of  your  visit 
here." 

"It  ought  to  be  very  jolly  if  it  comes  off,"  said 
Knight. 

"Very,"  assented  Carstairs.  "Pope  and  I  are 
looking  forward  to  a  most  amusing  time." 

"Something  like  a  happy  family  I  saw  once  at  a 
fair,"  said  Pope,  watching  the  smoke  of  his  cigar 
as  it  floated  out  of  the  window.  "It  consisted  of  a 
cat,  a  dog,  a  monkey,  and  doves  and  little  white 
mice  all  shut  up  together  in  a  cage.  I  think  that  the 
peace  was  kept  by  a  judicious  system  of  overfeed- 
ing." 

"Very  good  way,  too,"  said  Knight.  "But  there 
are  sometimes  conditions  at  sea  in  which  any  feeding 

119 


The  Castaways 

at  all  is  unwelcome.  We  must  have  this  trip,  if  it's 
only  to  see  you  in  a  gale." 

Pope  laughed  comfortably.  "I  am  an  excellent 
sailor,"  he  retorted.  "Why,  five  years  ago,  coming 
round  the  Land's  End  in  heavy  weather,  I  was  the 
only  passenger  aboard  that  turned  up  to  meals." 

"Triumph  of  the  flesh  over  the  spirit,"  said 
Knight. 

"Even  the  second  mate,  to  whom  I  gave  a  cigar, 
threw  it  away  after  a  couple  of  whiffs,"  continued 
Pope.  "I  feel  certain  that  half  a  dozen  more  would 
have  finished  him." 

"We  don't  doubt  your  word  for  a  moment,"  said 
Knight.  "But  when  you  have  made  an  end  of  your 
boasting  we  will  talk  business.  I  have  a  sort  of 
hopeful  idea  that  Lady  Penrose  will  accept  in  any 
case." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  inquired  Carstairs. 

"Instinct,"  replied  Mr.  Knight.  "Something 
seems  to  tell  me  she  will.  I  can't  explain  to  any- 
body, especially  to  you.  I  just  feel  it  in  my  bones. 
What  do  your  bones  say,  Freddie?" 

Mr.  Peplow's  bones  not  being  in  a  communica- 
tive mood,  Knight  turned  towards  Pope. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  that  gentleman  hastily.  "You 
leave  my  bones  alone." 

Knight  nodded  with  a  satisfied  air.  "I  see,"  he 
120 


The  Castaways 

said  darkly.  "That's  good  enough  for  me.  You 
are  quicker  than  I  thought.  It  is  never  safe  to 
judge  by  appearances.  You  are  a  kindred  spirit, 
Pope.     We  understand  each  other." 

"I'm  blest  if  I  know  what  you  are  talking  about," 
blustered  Pope. 

"No  matter,"  said  Knight,  rising  and  going  over 
to  him.  "Have  you  got  a  cigar  about  you?  Not 
one  of  the  same  brand  that  you  gave  to  the  poor 
mate." 

He  took  one  from  the  well-filled  case  and,  lighting 
it  delicately,  returned  to  his  seat. 

"I  wonder  what  sort  of  a  sailor  Lady  Penrose 
is?"  he  said,  blowing  out  a  cloud  of  smoke  and  re- 
garding it  thoughtfully. 

"And  old  Mrs.  Jardine?"  said  Mr.  Peplow. 

"She  is  an  excellent  sailor,  I  understand,"  said 
Carstairs.  "But  I  don't  understand  your  sudden 
concern  for  her  welfare." 

"I  was  thinking  of  mine,"  said  Mr.  Peplow  mod- 
estly. "Things  would  be  much  brighter  if  Mrs. 
Jardine  had  to  stay  in  her  bunk  most  of  the  time. 
She  has  an  extraordinary  knack  of  turning  up  in  the 
most  unexpected  places." 

"You  shouldn't  be  in  unexpected  places,"  said  his 
friend,  shaking  his  head  at  him. 

"And  she  seems  to  regard  me  almost  as  though 
121 


The  Castaways 

I   were   some   dangerous    animal,"    continued    Mr. 
Peplow. 

"Absurd!"  said  Pope  and  Knight  together. 

"Vanity  is  his  besetting  sin,"  added  Knight.  "My 
own  opinion  is  that  Mrs.  Jardine  regards  him  more 
in  the  light  of  a  pertinacious  blackbeetle  than  any- 
thing else.  One  day  she  will  put  her  foot  down, 
there  will  be  a  faint  apologetic  pop,  and  Freddie 
will  disappear." 

After  the  frivolity  of  his  younger  friends  it  was 
a  relief  to  Carstairs  to  turn  to  the  sedate  enthusiasm 
of  Talwyn.  He  was  as  eager  for  the  expedition  as 
Carstairs  himself,  and  lost  no  opportunity  of  trying 
to  persuade  Mrs.  Jardine  to  become  a  member  of 
it.  He  got  her  to  consent  at  last,  provided  that 
Lady  Penrose  would  also  join  the  party. 

"And  she  is  hesitating,  rather,"  said  Mrs.  Jar- 
dine. 

"What  is  the  difficulty?"  inquired  Talwyn. 

"There  are  one  or  two  possible  difficulties  in  the 
way,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine  vaguely.  The  possible  dif- 
ficulties had  been  discussed  with  Lady  Penrose,  and 
both  ladies  had  decided  to  do  nothing  in  haste  that 
they  might  repent  of  at  leisure.  The  appearance 
of  Knight  and  Peplow  at  Berstead  had  been  some- 
thing of  a  surprise  to  them ;  they  had  an  uneasy  idea 
that  there  might  be  a  greater  one  in  store. 

122 


The  Castaways 

"In  which  case  I  really  don't  think  I  want  to  go," 
said  Lady  Penrose.  "The  prospect  of  being  on  ship- 
board with  Mr.  Knight  for  some  months  is  not 
alluring.  I  have  a  great  objection  to  that  young 
man." 

"Sir  Edward  is  very  keen,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine, 
with  a  sigh.     "I  really  don't  think " 

"And  I  gather  that  Captain  Tollhurst  is  invited," 
said  Lady  Penrose. 

"Very  interesting  man,"  murmured  Mrs.  Jardine. 

"Very,"  agreed  her  friend.  "He  must  have  been 
a  great  reader  in  his  time,  I  should  think,  mostly  of 
boys'  books  of  travel  and  adventure." 

"Sir  Edward  thinks  a  lot  of  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Jardine  defensively.    "I  must  say  I  rather  like  him." 

Lady  Penrose  nodded.  "Anyway,  Captain  Toll- 
hurst doesn't  matter  much,"  she  said.  "As  for  the 
others,  we  must  wait  until  we  hear  from  Mr.  Car- 
stairs.  He  is  coming  on  Wednesday  afternoon  with 
Mrs.  Ginnell.     I  will  sound  him  then." 

"I  will  come,  too,  if  I  may,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine. 
"I  like  Mrs.  Ginnell;  and  perhaps  it  would  be  just 
as  well  for  me  to  hear  exactly  what  is  proposed.  A 
hint  or  two  might  be  of  service." 

She  tried  a  few  on  Wednesday  afternoon,  and,  as 
she  confided  to  Lady  Penrose  afterwards,  she  might 
as  well  have  tried  them  on  the  teapot.    Her  opinion 

123 


The  Castaways 

of  the  simple-minded  goodness  of  the  man  was  im- 
proved, but  her  respect  for  his  intelligence  was  not. 
And  Mrs.  Ginnell,  alert  and  youthful,  was  equally 
obtuse.  She  saw  only  one  side  of  the  picture:  a 
cheerful  company,  a  bright  sun,  and  summer  seas. 
It  was  a  relief  to  Mrs.  Jardine's  mind  when  Mrs. 
Ginnell  had  finished  her  third  cup  and  they  all  ad- 
journed to  the  garden.  \ 

"I  do  hope  that  you  and  Mrs.  Jardine  have  made 
up  your  minds  to  come,"  said  Carstairs  to  Lady 
Penrose,  as  they  walked  slowly  down  a  box-edged 
path.  "If  you  don't  I'm  afraid  the  whole  scheme 
will  fall  through." 

"I  don't  see  why  it  should,"  was  the  reply.  "There 
must  be  plenty  of  people  who  would  jump  at  it." 

Carstairs  shook  his  head.  "Besides,  I  don't  want 
plenty  of  people,"  he  said  slowly,  "although,  of 
course,  I  should  extend  a  hearty  welcome  to  any 
friends  of  yours  that  you  might  wish  to  bring." 

"And  suppose  that  you  didn't  like  them?"  said 
Lady  Penrose,  playing  for  an  opening. 

"It  wouldn't  matter." 

"I'm  afraid  that  I  am  more  particular,  or,  if  you 
like,  more  selfish,"  said  Lady  Penrose.  "I  shouldn't 
care  to  go  for  a  long  voyage  with  people  that  I 
did  not  like." 

Carstairs  stole  an  appraising  glance  at  her,  and 
124 


The  Castaways 

as  a  result  decided  to  run  a  slight  risk  of  disaster. 
"Of  course,"  he  said  cheerfully;  "so  I  will  give  you 
a  list  of  my  guests,  and  you  can  strike  out  those 
you  don't  like." 

Lady  Penrose  laughed.  "Nonsense,"  she  said, 
colouring  slightly.  "It  has  nothing  to  do  with  me. 
I  couldn't  dream  of  doing  such  a  thing." 

"Then  you  will  come?"  said  Carstairs. 

Lady  Penrose  hesitated.  "Suppose  you  make  the 
same  offer  to  Mrs.  Jardine,"  she  suggested,  "and 
give  her  the  list." 

"I — I  prefer  to  rely  on  your  judgment,"  said 
Carstairs. 

"Who  is  coming?"  she  asked,  after  a  pause. 

Carstairs  went  through  the  names.  "And  I  un- 
derstand that  my  aunt  has  invited  Knight  and  Pep- 
low,"  he  concluded.  "They  are  staying  with  us,  you 
know." 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Penrose  slowly.  "Yes — I  am 
not  very  fond  of  Mr.  Knight." 

Carstairs  gave  a  little  wave  of  the  hand.  "Strike 
him  off,  then,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "I'm  afraid  my 
aunt  will  be  very  disappointed,  but  still " 

"I  can't  possibly  interfere  with  your  arrange- 
ments," said  Lady  Penrose,  with  a  little  laugh  of 
annoyance.  "And  what  do  you  think  Mrs.  Ginnell 
would  say?" 

125 


The  Castaways 

"She  is  very  set  on  your  coming,"  said  Carstairs, 
"and  will  be  very  much  upset  if  the  whole  thing  falls 
through,  as  it  will  if  you  don't  come.  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  not  let  your  plans  be  upset  by  a 
youngster  of  that  age.  Apart  from  that  you  would 
like  to  come?" 

"Very  much." 

"Then  that  is  settled,"  said  Carstairs.  "I  abso- 
lutely decline  to  let  any  half-baked  boy  upset  my 
plans  in  that  fashion.  It  is  making  far  too  impor- 
tant a  person  of  him.     Don't  you  feel  that?" 

"I  don't  think  that  he  would,"  said  Lady  Penrose. 

"You  will  come?"  said  Carstairs.  "Please  say 
'yes.'  If  you  don't  I  can  never  look  my  poor  aunt 
in  the  face  again." 

Lady  Penrose  hesitated.  "Thank  you  very 
much,"  she  said  at  last,  with  a  faint  smile.  "You 
have  put  so  much  responsibility  upon  me  that  I 
couldn't  refuse,  even  if  I  wanted  to." 

"That's  right,"  said  Carstairs  joyfully.  "And 
now  let  us  go  and  tell  Mrs.  Jardine.  Next  Mon- 
day I  shall  set  out  in  quest  of  the  safest  and 
sturdiest  craft  I  can  find;  speed  no  object." 

Mrs.  Jardine  received  the  news  calmly,  and, 
with  perfect  confidence  in  her  friend's  judgment, 
gratefully  accepted  the   invitation.     Details    (par- 

126 


The  Castaways 

tial)   furnished  after  the  visitors  had  departed  left 
her  less  satisfied. 

"It  ought  to  be  very  pleasant,"  she  said  slowly. 
"It  is  a  pity  that  Mr.  Carstairs  is  so  slow  of  com- 
prehension. However,  there  is  plenty  of  time  for 
us  to  change  our  mind  if  we  wish." 

"I  am  going,"  said  Lady  Penrose.  "I  have 
promised." 

"You  have  made  promises  before,"  said  Mrs. 
Jardine,  with  a  wise  nod. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  inquired  her  friend,  with 
a  little  heat. 

"And  I  know  how  binding  they  are,"  concluded 
Mrs.  Jardine  ambiguously. 

Lady  Penrose  looked  at  her,  but,  being  blessed 
with  an  excellent  memory,  refrained  from  pursu- 
ing the  subject.  She  sat  gazing  at  a  bed  of  gera- 
niums and  turning  over  in  her  mind  an  idea  that 
had  suddenly  occurred  to  her. 

"Do  you  think  that  Mr.  Carstairs  is  as  single- 
minded  and  ingenuous  as  he  seems?"  she  inquired. 

"Certainly  I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine.  "It's  the 
only  defect  in  his  character  so  far  as  I  can  see. 
I  am  not  sure  that  I  wouldn't  call  him  simple. 
In  a  nice,  pleasant  way,  of  course,  but  certainly 
simple." 

127 


The  Castaways 

"I  wonder!"  said  Lady  Penrose,  knitting  her 
brows. 

At  the  same  time  Mr.  Carstairs,  suffering  from 
severe  twinges  of  conscience,  was  calling  himself  a 
rascal  of  the  deepest  dye. 


128 


B 


CHAPTER  XI 

k  E  good,"  said  Mr.  Biggs. 

Mr.  Bob  Watson,  his  assistant,  who 
had  got  the  afternoon  off,  waved  his  hand 
and  strode  away  jauntily.  Nearly  at  the  gate,  how- 
ever, he  paused,  and,  eying  a  small  figure  that  had 
just  entered,  turned  round  and  signalled  to  Mr. 
Biggs.  The  small  figure,  supporting  an  enormous 
left  cheek  with  a  not  overclean  hand,  scowled  at 
him  darkly  and  continued  on  its  way  to  the  garage. 
Mr.  Watson,  much  interested,  followed. 

"Yes,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  with  a  wink  at  Mr. 
Watson.  "What  can  I  do  for  you,  sir?  Why, 
bless  my  soul,  I  seem  to  know  that  face !  And  yet 
somehow  I  don't  seem  to  know  it.  Do  you  know 
it,  Bob?" 

Mr.  Watson  shook  his  head.  "It's  a  perfect 
stranger  to  me,"  he  said,  in  a  puzzled  voice. 
"Seems  to  have  a  sort  of  likeness  to  that  silly  little 
page,  Albert." 

"It's  much  better-looking  than  Albert's,"  said 
Mr.  Biggs;  "better  nourished,  too." 

129 


The  Castaways 

"It's  something  like  our  Albert  might  be,  though, 
after  kissing  a  honey-bee  what  didn't  want  to  be 
kissed,"  maintained  Mr.  Watson. 

"I've  got  a  message  for  you  from  the  guv'nor," 
said  the  boy,  speaking  with  difficulty  from  the  right- 
hand  side  of  his  mouth. 

"It  is  Albert!"  said  Biggs,  with  an  air  of  great 
surprise.  "Well,  I  never  did.  How  well  you  are 
looking,  Albert!  Why,  your  left  cheek  is  almost 
grown  up." 

"Toothache,"  said  Albert  indistinctly.  "Abscess. 
I've  got  to  go  to  the  dentisht." 

"Well,  run  away,  Albert,"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  with 
a  benevolent  smile.  "We  don't  want  to  keep  you. 
But  it's  a  pity  to  spoil  that  cheek." 

"You've  got  to  take  me,"  said  Albert,  with  a 
horrible  leer  of  triumph.  "Mr.  Carstairs  said  so. 
To  Bosham,  thirteen  miles  off.     I  like  motoring." 

Mr.  Biggs's  smile  vanished  with  a  suddenness 
that  was  almost  startling,  and  he  stood  gazing  in 
helpless  fury  at  the  small  figure  before  him. 

"I  like  motoring,"  repeated  Albert,  making  a 
praiseworthy  attempt  to  smack  his  lips.  "And  you 
are  to  start  at  once.  Mr.  Carstairs  said  so.  Mr. 
Markham  has  been  on  the  'phone,  and  I  have  got 
an  appointment  at  three.     Hurry  up!" 

Hardly  able  to  believe  his  ears,  Mr.  Biggs  caught 
130 


The  Castaways 

his  breath,  and  for  one  brief  moment  toyed  with 
the  idea  of  putting  both  cars  out  of  action.  Then 
his  gaze  fell  on  the  grinning  Watson,  and  his  ex- 
pression changed. 

"If  you  want  anything  for  yourself,  Bob,"  he 
said,  taking  a  pace  towards  him,  "you've  only  got 
to  say  so,  you  know." 

"I  don't,"  said  the  other,  retreating.  "So  long, 
Be  good." 

The  few  but  powerful  words  wrenched  from 
Mr.  Biggs  died  away  in  the  recess  of  the  garage. 
He  tore  his  jacket  from  its  peg,  put  on  his  cap 
with  a  bang,  and,  walking  to  the  front  of  the  car, 
started  the  engine.  The  unexpected  appearance  of 
the  butler  provided  the  finishing  touch  to  his  dis- 
comfiture. 

"Why  don't  you  make  haste,  Albert?"  demanded 
the  latter,  with  a  fine  disregard  of  Mr.  Biggs. 

"I  did  tell  him  to  hurry  up,  sir,"  said  the  boy. 
"I  suppose  he  is  doing  his  best.     I  think  he  is." 

A  weird,  choking  noise,  instantly  suppressed,  pro- 
ceeded from  the  interior  of  the  suffering  Mr.  Biggs. 

"Get  out  of  the  way,"  he  said,  addressing  the 
butler;  "I'm  coming  out." 

He  came  out  so  suddenly  that  the  butler  had 
to  side-step  with  more  haste  than  dignity.  The  car 
went  on  for  sixty  or  seventy  yards,  and,  pulling  up, 

131 


The  Castaways 

waited  for  the  indignant  Albert  to  overtake  it.  His 
attempt  to  get  up  in  front  was  promptly  frustrated 
by  the  chauffeur. 

"In  behind,"  said  that  gentleman  briefly. 

"I  ought  to  ride  in  front  by  rights,"  said  the 
boy  rebelliously. 

"You  ought  to  be  buried  by  rights,"  retorted 
Mr.  Biggs  dispassionately.  "Get  in,  unless  you 
want  me  to  drive  off  without  you.  And  hide  that 
face  in  a  pocket-handkerchief — if  you've  got  one." 

He  sat  looking  straight  in  front  of  him,  turning 
a  deaf  ear  to  the  instructions  given  to  the  boy  by 
the  butler,  who  had  come  up;  instructions  on  the 
need  for  haste  if  the  appointment  was  to  be  kept 
and  trouble  with  Mr.  Carstairs  avoided.  Also  that 
it  was  a  business  visit,  and  no  "joy-riding"  was  to 
be  permitted. 

"And  consider  yourself  lucky,"  concluded  Mr. 
Markham  impressively,  "that  you  have  a  car  to 
ride  in  and  a  fairly  capable  man  to  drive  you." 

The  fairly  capable  man  let  in  his  clutch  so  sharply 
that  Albert  nearly  rolled  off  his  seat  as  the  car 
started  off.  Then  he  adjusted  himself  comfortably, 
and,  leaning  back,  prepared  to  enjoy  himself  as 
much  as  his  malady  would  permit.  It  was  his  first 
motor-ride,  and  for  a  time  the  aching  tooth  was 
almost  forgotten. 

132 


The  Castaways 

The  village  street  was  somewhat  busy,  and  Mr. 
Biggs,  slowing  down  through  the  traffic,  went  slower 
still  at  the  sight  of  a  stylish  figure  in  front  of  the 
general  shop.  He  brought  the  car  to  a  standstill, 
and  Miss  Mudge,  with  a  bright  smile,  turned  to- 
wards him. 

"Unexpected  pleasure,"  declared  the  chauffeur 
politely. 

"Where  are  you  off  to?"  inquired  Miss  Mudge, 
with  a  glance  at  the  small  figure  behind. 

"Bosham,"  replied  Mr.  Biggs.  "I'm  taking  this 
thing  to  have  a  milk-tooth  pulled  out." 

"Poor  Albert!"  said  the  girl,  with  womanly  sym- 
pathy.    "Does  it  hurt  you  much,  dear?" 

"Who  are  you  'dearing' ?"  croaked  the  offended 
youth.  "Of  course  it  hurts.  If  the  chauffeur 
doesn't  hurry  up  I  shall  miss  my  appointment." 

"Oh,  what  a  temper  it  is  in!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Mudge,  drawing  back  in  pretended  alarm.  "Don't 
let  me  detain  you,   Mr.  Biggs.     Good-bye." 

"There's  no  hurry,"  declared  the  chauffeur. 
"You  mustn't  take  any  notice  of  Albert.  Nobody 
does.     Why  not  hop  on  and  come  along  with  us?" 

Miss  Mudge  shook  her  head.  "I  should  like 
to,"  she  said,  "but  I'm  only  off  till  half-past  four. 
My  lady  said  I  was  to  be  sure  and  be  in  by  then. 
She's  going  out." 

133 


The  Castaways 

"Half-past  four?"  said  Mr.  Biggs.  "Why, 
there's  heaps  and  heaps  of  time." 

He  leaned  across  and  opened  the  door,  and  Miss 
Mudge,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  stepped  in  and 
took  the  seat  beside  him. 

"I  hope  my  hat  will  stick  on,"  she  said  doubt- 
fully.    "It  wasn't  made  for  motoring." 

"I'll  go  easy,"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  regarding  it  with 
open  admiration.  "If  I  might  say  so,  it  suits  you 
wonderfully." 

Miss  Mudge  sighed.  "You  ought  to  have  seen 
the  one  I  had  last  year,"  she  said.  "It's  a  pity 
that  fashions  change  so.  You  no  sooner  get  some- 
thing that  suits  you  than  something  else  comes  in." 

"How  is  this  for  speed?"  inquired  Mr.  Biggs, 
who  was  doing  a  gentle  twelve  miles  an  hour. 

"Just  right,"  said  Miss  Mudge.  "I  like  going 
slow ;  you  can  see  the  scenery  better.  Talking  about 
scenery,  did  you  know  I'm  going  with  my  lady  in 
the  yacht?  She's  promised  to  take  me.  It  ought 
to  be  heavenly." 

Mr.  Biggs's  face  fell.  "Must  you  go?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"Why,  I  want  to  go,"  said  the  other.  "I 
wouldn't  miss  it  for  worlds." 

The  chauffeur's  face  grew  more  sombre.  "And 
134 


The  Castaways 

leave  all  your  friends  behind?"  he  said  reproach- 
fully. 

"Perhaps  they'll  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  me,"  said 
Miss  Mudge  flippantly.  "Besides,  I  sha'n't  leave 
them  all  behind;  Mr.  Markham  is  coming  to  look 
after  things.  Mr.  Carstairs  thinks  a  lot  of  him, 
I  am  told." 

"I  suppose  Markham  told  you  so,"  said  the 
chauffeur,   trembling  with  wrath. 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "Everybody  says  so,,v 
she  replied  softly. 

Mr.  Biggs  drove  on  in  silence.  Vitriolic  things 
trembled  on  his  lips,  things  unfit  for  the  delicate 
ears  of  Miss  Mudge. 

"I  wish  October  was  here,"  she  said  presently. 
"I've  always  wanted  to  see  the  world,  and  it's 
delightful  to  see  it  that  way.  No  trains  to  catch, 
no  packing  up  and  moving  from  place  to  place. 
It's  heavenly.  If  I  don't  have  a  good  time  it  won't 
be  my  fault." 

Mr.  Biggs  grunted,  and,  looking  straight  before 
him,  drove  on  steadily. 

"Don't  you  wish  you  were  coming?"  inquired 
the  girl,  leaning  towards  him. 

"Do  you  wish  I  was?"  countered  Mr.  Biggs, 
also  leaning  a  little  bit  out  of  the  perpendicular. 

"I  shouldn't  mind,"  was  the  reply. 

135 


The  Castaways 

Mr.  Biggs  leaned  a  little  more  in  her  direction, 
until  a  tendril  of  hair  brushed  lightly  against  his 
cheek.  He  drove  on  in  a  kind  of  pleasant  dream, 
until  a  sensation  of  hot  air  playing  on  the  back 
of  his  neck  brought  him  back  suddenly  to  earth 
again.  He  turned  fiercely,  and  the  pallid  face  of 
Albert  receded  to  a  safe  distance. 

"Hurry  up,"  mumbled  that  young  gentleman. 
UI  shall  miss  my  appointment." 

"I'll  'hurry'  you,"  said  the  indignant  chauffeur, 
in  a  fury.  "How  dare  you  stick  that  unwholesome 
face  of  yours  against  a  lady's?  What  do  you  mean 
by  it?     What  did  you  say?" 

"I  said  it  wasn't  so  close  as  yours,"  replied 
Albert,  "and  neither  it  was.  I've  been  watching 
you.  You  were  told  to  get  me  to  the  dentist's 
at  three." 

To  Miss  Mudge's  great  surprise,  Mr.  Biggs 
touched  something  on  the  wheel  and  the  speed  in- 
creased every  second.  When  the  speedometer  was 
showing  thirty  miles  an  hour  she  looked  at  him 
inquiringly,  and  in  return  got  a  faint  wink  from  his 
left  eyelid.  The  speedometer  climbed  up  to  thirty- 
five  and  then  the  needle  began  to  drop  back  again. 

"Something  wrong,"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  with  an- 
other faint  movement  of  the  eyelid.  "Sparking- 
plug,  I  think." 

136 


The  Castaways 

He  pulled  up  fifty  yards  further  on,  and,  ignor- 
ing the  request  of  Albert  for  information,  raised 
the  bonnet  and  peered  in.  Then  he  came  back 
again,  and,  requesting  the  girl  to  stand  up,  raised 
the  lid  of  the  seat  and  took  out  some  tools. 

"Anything  wrong?"  she  inquired. 

"Nothing  much,"  he  replied.  "A  matter  of  ten 
minutes  or  so.  I'm  sorry  for  'Face-ache,'  but  it 
can't  be  helped.  That's  the  worst  of  motor-cars. 
One  moment  you  are  bowling  along  at  forty  miles 
an  hour,  and  the  next  you  are  waiting  for  some- 
body to  give  you  a  tow  to  the  nearest  garage.  I 
remember  once,  before  I  came  to  Mr.  Carstairs — " 

"Why  don't  you  hurry  up?"  demanded  Albert. 

"Sorry,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  in  tones  of  deep 
respect.  "I'll  be  as  quick  as  possible.  Perhaps 
you'd  like  to  get  out  and  stretch  your  legs  a  bit? 
I  feel  as  if  I  could  work  faster  if  I  didn't  have 
your  eagle  eye  on  me  all  the  time." 

Albert  cast  a  malevolent  glance  upon  the  titter- 
ing Miss  Mudge,  but  made  no  reply,  and  the  chauf- 
feur, whistling  in  the  preoccupied  fashion  of  a  busy 
man,  set  to  work.  The  girl  got  out  and  sat  on 
the  bank,  rising  after  a  time  to  loiter  up  and  down 
the  road. 

"Haven't  you  nearly  finished?"  she  said  at  last. 
137 


The  Castaways 

"You've  got  to  get  me  back  at  half-past  four  sharp, 
you  know." 

"That'll  be  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  look- 
ing at  the  clock.  "There's  time  to  draw  all  Al- 
bert's teeth  and  rig  him  up  with  a  set  of  new  ones. 
I've  just  finished." 

He  closed  up  the  bonnet  and,  putting  his  tools 
away,  started  the  engine,  and  climbed  to  his  seat, 
followed  by  Miss  Mudge. 

"It's  a  shame,"  she  giggled,  as  they  sped  on. 
"How  can  you  tease  the  poor  child  like  that?" 

"Can't  be  helped,"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  in  a  loud 
voice.  "Nobody  can  prevent  accidents.  But  for 
that  we  should  have  kept  our  time." 

He  was  rewarded  by  an  understanding  glance 
from  Miss  Mudge,  and,  somewhat  pleased  with 
himself,  drove  the  rest  of  the  way  in  high  spirits. 

"Look  slippy,  my  lad,"  he  said  amiably  as  he 
pulled  up  at  the  dentist's.  "Shut  your  eyes,  open 
your  mouth,  and  mind  you  don't  swallow  the 
nippers." 

"Five-and-twenty  past  three,"  said  Miss  Mudge, 
as  the  door  opened  and  the  boy  disappeared. 

"You'll  be  home  at  a  quarter  past  four,"  said 
Mr.  Biggs.  "Just  take  care  of  the  car  for  a  mo- 
ment; I  want  to  get  something." 

He  went  off  up  the  road  and  disappeared  into 
138 


The  Castaways 

a  confectioner's,  returning  after  a  short  interval 
with  a  large  box  of  chocolates  dangling  from  his 
forefinger  by  a  piece  of  pink  ribbon.  He  placed 
them  on  the  girl's  lap  and,  declining  a  share  in 
favour  of  a  cigarette,  noted  with  warm  approval 
the  correctness  of  her  table  manners.  He  felt  that 
he  could  sit  and  talk  to  her  for  hours. 

"A  quarter  to  four,"  she  said  suddenly. 

"He  won't  be  a  minute  now,"  said  the  other 
confidently. 

Miss  Mudge  consumed  three  or  four  more  choco- 
lates, and  then,  closing  the  cardboard  box,  sat 
tapping  it  impatiently  with  the  tips  of  her  fingers. 
Her  restlessness  communicated  itself  to  the  chauf- 
feur, and  two  or  three  times,  with  an  air  of  hurry- 
ing things,  he  stood  up  and  peered  at  the  dentist's 
windows.     They  stared  blankly  at  him  in  return. 

"I  shall  get  into  trouble,"  said  the  girl  uneasily. 
"You'd  better  drive  me  home  as  fast  as  you  can, 
and  then  come  back  for  him." 

Mr.  Biggs  shook  his  head.  "He's  a  disagree- 
able little  beast,"  he  said  slowly,  "and  he'd  jump 
at  the  chance  to  make  mischief  if  he  came  out  and 
found  us  gone.  Very  likely  go  by  train  to  Pettle 
and  walk  six  miles  home  from  there  to  make 
trouble." 

139 


The  Castaways 

The  church  clock,  in  a  marked,  deliberate  fashion, 
struck  four. 

"I'll  fetch  him  out,"  snarled  Mr.  Biggs. 
"I'll " 

He  dashed  up  the  steps  and  pressed  the  bell. 
A  maid-servant,  after  a  decent  interval,  opened 
the  door. 

"He's  in  the  waiting-room,"  she  said,  in  reply 
to  the  chauffeur's  question. 

"In  the  waiting-room!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Biggs. 
"Why  doesn't  he  come  out?" 

The  maid  stared  at  him.  "He's  waiting  to  be 
attended  to,"  she  said  firmly. 

"Wait "    gasped    Mr.    Biggs.      "Wait 

Where  is  the  room?     I  want  to  see  him." 

He  followed  close  on  her  heels,  and  burst  into 
a  stiff,  cheerless-looking  room  furnished  with  soiled 
copies  of  Punch  and  illustrated  papers  of  the  year 
before  last.  Albert,  who  was  reading  a  paper,  put 
it  down  and  eyed  him  languidly. 

"What's  all  this  about?"  demanded  the  chauffeur. 
"Why  aren't  you  ready?  What  have  you  been  do- 
ing?"  ^ 

"Missed  my  appointment,"  said  Albert,  with  a 
faint  sigh.  "I  told  you  it  was  for  three  o'clock. 
But  I  don't  mind  waiting;  this  is  a  most  interesting 
story." 

140 


The  Castaways 

"You  hurry  up,"  said  Mr.  Biggs  truculently,  "else 
you'll  be  sorry  for  it,  you  miserable  little  toad!" 

"You've  no  right  to  talk  to  him  like  that,"  said 
a  middle-aged  woman,  who  was  the  only  other  occu- 
pant of  the  room.  "In  my  opinion  the  boy  is  a 
perfect  little  gentleman.  He's  already  given  up  his 
turn  to  two  people;  and  I'm  sure  he's  suffering." 

"Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  after  a  merciful 
attack  of  speechlessness.  "Very  good;  I'll  tell  Mr. 
Carstairs  of  this." 

"Mr.  Carstairs  wouldn't  mind;  it's  the  thing  he 
would  do  himself,"  retorted  Albert  in  a  saintly 
voice.     "He " 

"Ready  for  you  now,"  said  the  maid,  opening 
the  door  and  beckoning. 

Albert  rose,  and,  with  a  somewhat  disappointed 
glance  at  the  clock,  went  out. 

"We  shall  just  do  it,"  said  Mr.  Biggs,  returning 
to  the  car.  "I  don't  suppose  it'll  take  more  than 
a  minute  now." 

He  started  the  engine  and  resumed  his  seat.  Ten 
minutes  later  he  switched  it  off  again,  and  sat  in  a 
state  of  suppressed  fury  listening  to  the  complaints 
of  his  distressed  companion. 

"It's  all  your  fault,"  she  said  hotly.  "If  you 
hadn't  been  so  clever  teasing  the  boy  it  wouldn't 
have  happened." 

141 


The  Castaways 

"You  enjoyed  it,"  urged  Mr.  Biggs.  "I  saw 
you  smiling." 

"You  won't  see  me  smile  again  in  a  hurry,"  said 
Miss  Mudge  grimly.  "But  go  on,  put  the  blame  on 
me!     Anything  more  you  would  like  to  say?" 

She  pitched  the  box  of  chocolates  on  the  floor 
of  the  car,  and,  opening  the  door,  stepped  out  and 
paced  restlessly  up  and  down  the  footpath.  At 
exactly  twenty  minutes  to  five  the  dentist's  front 
door  opened,  and  Albert,  with  a  somewhat  im- 
proved appearance,  paused  on  the  top  step  for  a 
few  words  with  the  maid.  He  sauntered  down  the 
steps  just  as  Mr.  Biggs  started  the  engine. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  demanded  the  chauffeur, 
glaring  at  him.  "Don't  you  try  and  tell  me  that 
it  has  taken  him  all  this  time  to  draw  a  tooth." 

"No,  it  wouldn't  be  true,"  said  Albert.  "He 
found  another  tooth  with  a  hole  in  it;  so  I  told 
him  he  might  as  well  stop  it.  He's  got  a  thing 
like  a  sewing-machine,  and " 

He  drew  back  appalled  before  the  frenzy  in  Mr. 
Biggs' s  face. 

"Are  you  going  to  start,  or  are  we  going  to  stay 
here  all  day?"  inquired  Miss  Mudge.  "Get  up, 
Albert." 

"It's  your  place,"  said  the  boy  quickly. 

"I'm  going  in  behind,"  said  the  girl. 
142 


The  Castaways 

"I'll  come,  too,"  said  Albert. 

"Not  with  me,  you  won't,"  said  the  girl,  getting 
in  and  closing  the  door.  "Make  haste  and  get  in. 
There's  a  box  of  chocolates  on  the  floor  you  can 
have." 

"No,  he  can't!"  grunted  Mr.  Biggs,  as  the  car 
started. 

"They're  my  chocolates,"  said  Miss  Mudge, 
"and  I  can  give  them  to  who  I  like.  Pick  them 
up,  Albert." 

The  boy,  with  his  eye  on  the  chauffeur,  obeyed. 

"Now  eat  them." 

Albert  shook  his  head,  but,  the  command  being 
repeated,  drew  a  large  chocolate,  decorated  with  a 
crystallised  violet,  from  the  box,  and  delicately  bit 
off  the  end.  Slight  sucking  noises  testified  to  his 
enjoyment,  and  after  a  minute  or  two  of  very  justi- 
fiable nervousness  he  settled  back  in  his  seat  and 
gave  himself  up  to  the  full  enjoyment  of  the 
position. 

"Thank  you  for  a  very  pleasant  afternoon,"  said 
Miss  Mudge,  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  as  she  de- 
scended at  the  gate.  "And  thanks  so  much  for 
getting  me  into  trouble." 

"It  wasn't  my  fault,"  said  the  hapless  Mr.  Biggs. 

"Being  done  by  a  babe  in  arms  like  that!"  said 
Miss   Mudge,  with  a   glance   at  Albert.     "I'd  be 

143 


The  Castaways 

ashamed  of  myself.  Thank  goodness  you're  not 
coming  to  sea  with  us!" 

"I  don't  know  so  much  about  that,"  said  Mr. 
Biggs.  "Perhaps  I  can  if  I  want  to.  Perhaps  Lady 
Penrose  won't  take  you — now." 

Miss  Mudge  slammed  the  gate. 


144 


CHAPTER  XII 

MR.  BIGGS  put  the  matter  of  the  yacht 
right  next  day.  It  appeared  from  his 
own  showing  that  he  could  be  of  great 
use  in  the  engine-room,  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
as  an  honest  man  and  an  Englishman,  he  had  a 
great  objection  to  staying  at  home  on  full  pay  with 
nothing  to  do  for  it.  Permission  was  accorded  so 
readily  that,  relating  the  matter  to  Mr.  Watson 
afterwards,  he  was  half-disposed  to  regret  that  he 
had  not  asked  to  go  as  a  passenger. 

"Cheek'U  do  anything  almost,"  assented  Mr. 
Watson.  "What  do  you  know  about  a  ship's 
engines?" 

"More  than  you  know  about  a  car's,"  retorted 
the  other.  "When  a  man's  got  a  head  for  ma- 
chinery— which  you  haven't — nothing  comes  amiss 
to  him.  I  haven't  seen  the  machinery  I  couldn't 
understand,  yet." 

"That  shows  your  sense,"  said  Watson.  "It's 
no  good  going  out  of  your  way  to  look  for  trouble, 
I  mean.    However,  I  hope  you'll  have  a  good  time; 

145 


The  Castaways 

I'm  going  to.  I  wonder  the  guv'nor  don't  take  the 
housemaids  and  the  gardeners  as  well;  they  could 
lend  you  a  hand  in  the  engine-room." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  rest  of  the  staff,  with 
one  exception,  manifested  no  desire  to  tempt  their 
fortunes  on  the  stormy  deep.  Board  wages  and 
an  easy  existence  for  some  months  was  the  height 
of  their  ambition.  The  exception  was  Albert,  and, 
until  his  desires  were  made  known,  a  little  confusion 
was  caused  by  his  unusual  behaviour. 

"I'd  sooner  have  a  ghost  in  the  place,"  declared 
Pope  to  Carstairs  one  day.  "The  little  beast  simply 
haunts  me.     What's  the  matter  with  him?" 

Carstairs  shook  his  head.  "I  seem  to  have  seen 
more  of  him  lately,"  he  remarked.  "I  have  nearly 
fallen  over  him  twice." 

"Whenever  I  turn  my  head,  there  is  that  infernal 
boy  somewhere  near,"  said  Pope.  "And  there's 
a  curious  pale  smile  about  him  I  don't  like.  D'ye 
think  it's  mental?" 

"No,  no!"  said  Carstairs  hastily.  "Of  course 
it  isn't.  Don't  give  way  to  such  fancies;  they're 
unhealthy.     Your  head  is  all  right." 

"Mine?"  gasped  his  incensed  friend.  "Mine? 
I  am  talking  about  the  boy's.  He's  getting  very 
strange  in  his  manner.  Only  yesterday  he  stole  up 
behind  me  and  picked  a  bit  of  fluff  off  my  coat.     I 

146 


The  Castaways 

didn't  know  he  was  there,  and  it  gave  me  quite  a 
turn." 

"That's  odd,"  said  Carstairs,  looking  perplexed. 
"He  picked  two  bits  of  fluff  off  me  this  morning. 
At  two  different  times." 

"Let's  have  him  up  and  question  him,"  said  Pope, 
crossing  to  the  bell.     "Tackle  him  gently." 

"Bait  your  coat  with  a  piece  of  fluff,"  said  Car- 
stairs,  with  a  grin;  "that  would  give  us  an  opening." 

Albert,  whose  conscience  was  no  clearer  than  that 
of  the  average  page,  received  the  summons  with 
some  trepidation.  The  slow  arranging  of  Mr. 
Pope's  pince-nez  added  to  his  discomfiture,  and  he 
stood  trying  to  think  out  replies  to  any  misde- 
meanours with  which  he  might  be  charged. 

"Have  you  quite  recovered  from  your  visit  to 
the  dentist?"  inquired  Carstairs. 

"Me,  sir?     Yessir,"  replied  the  boy. 

"You  don't  appear  to  be  quite  well,"  said  Car- 
stairs musingly. 

"Perfectly  well,  sir,"  said  the  puzzled  Albert. 
"Thank  you,  sir." 

"Then  what  do  you  mean  by  it?"  inquired  Pope, 
taking  off  his  folders  and  shaking  them  at  him 
threateningly.  "What  do  you  keep  getting  in  my 
way  for  and  following  me  about?  And  Mr.  Car- 
stairs?" 

147 


The  Castaways 

"Nothing,  sir,"  said  Albert.  "I — I  didn't  know 
you  had  noticed  it,  sir." 

"That's  an  admission,"  said  Pope,  turning  a  red 
face  to  Carstairs. 

"I — I  wanted  to  ask  you  something,  sir,"  said 
the  boy,  turning  to  the  latter. 

"Well?" 

Albert  twisted  his  hands  together.  "I  wanted 
to  ask — whether — I  could  go,"  he  said  desperately. 

"Go !"  repeated  his  astonished  employer.  "Why, 
of  course  you  can.     Why  didn't  you  ask  before?" 

The  tension  of  Albert's  features  relaxed,  and 
was  succeeded  by  a  radiant  smile.  "I  thought  there 
mightn't  be  room,  sir,"  he  said  simply. 

Carstairs  turned  with  a  perplexed  gaze  to  Pope. 
"Room?"  he  repeated  slowly.     "Room?" 

"On  the  boat,  sir,"  explained  the  boy,  staring 
in  his  turn. 

A  startled  grunt  from  Mr.  Pope  and  a  sudden 
exclamation  from  Mr.  Carstairs  added  to  his  mysti- 
fication.    Carstairs  was  the  first  to  recover. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  smiling.  "Very  thought- 
ful of  you;  but  I  have  no  doubt  we  shall  be  able 
to  find  room  somewhere." 

"If  we  couldn't,"  said  Pope,  with  great  solemnity, 
"we'd  make  it." 

Albert  eyed  him  dubiously,  and,  retiring  in  good 
148 


The  Castaways 

order,  closed  the  door  and  danced  downstairs  in 
an  ecstasy  of  delight. 

"That  settles  it;  we  must  now  redouble  our  efforts 
to  get  a  satisfactory  craft,"  said  Carstairs.  "It 
would  never  do  to  break  faith  with  Albert." 

"He  would  be  much  more  disappointed  than 
Lady  Penrose,"  said  Pope.  "We  had  better  go 
up  to-morrow  and  see  that  yacht  broker  Talwyn 
mentioned.  Tollhurst  offered  to  come  with  us. 
He — he  is  going  to  help  me  buy  guns  and  things." 

"Guns?"  said  his  friend,  staring. 

"Must  have  a  shot-gun,"  replied  Pope,  redden- 
ing. "One  thing  is,  it  will  be  useful  down  here. 
And  perhaps  a  rifle.  Every  man  ought  to  know 
how  to  use  one.  Might  be  useful  on  board.  You 
never  know." 

Carstairs  groaned.  "You've  been  talking  to 
Tollhurst,"  he  said  accusingly.  "All  right.  We'll 
mount  a  couple  of  brass  cannon  as  well.  What 
about  a  black  flag?" 

Pope  turned  a  deaf  ear.  At  the  age  of  fifty 
he  had  resolved  to  become  a  sportsman;  a  resolu- 
tion partly  due  to  the  narratives  of  Captain  Toll- 
hurst, and  partly  to  the  rabbits  which  came  out 
in  their  thousands  in  the  park  at  sunset.  Up  to 
the  present  he  had  contented  himself  with  taking 
sighting-shots  at  them  with  a  walking-stick,  develop- 

149 


The  Castaways 

ing  an  accuracy  of  aim  which  he  felt  sure  would 
prove  of  value  later  on.  Birds — half  a  mile  dis- 
tant— had  also  been  satisfactorily  accounted  for. 

They  took  the  business  of  the  yacht  first  next 
day,  a  story  of  a  rhinoceros  and  Captain  Tollhurst 
helping  to  beguile  the  tedium  of  the  journey.  A 
story  told  so  modestly  that  only  the  thoughtful 
listener  could  appreciate  the  high  courage  and  re- 
sourcefulness displayed  by  the  survivor. 

It  was  a  matter  of  surprise  to  Carstairs,  who  had 
never  given  the  matter  much  thought,  that  the  choice 
of  steam  yachts  of  the  tonnage  required  was  a  some- 
what limited  one,  but  by  what  the  broker  described 
as  an  extraordinary  slice  of  luck  the  very  craft  they 
were  looking  for  was  at  that  moment  undergoing 
repairs  at  Southampton.  Photographs  and  plans 
seemed  eminently  satisfactory,  and  they  left  after 
making  an  arrangement  to  view  the  Starlight,  four- 
teen hundred  tons,  three  days  later. 

"It  would  have  been  more  interesting,"  said  Toll- 
hurst, as  they  returned  to  the  car,  "to  have  hired 
a  small  sailing  yacht." 

"You  mean  more  dangerous,"  said  Pope  ac- 
cusingly. "So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  prefer  size 
and  security." 

The  captain  laughed  and  shook  his  head.  "A 
little  element  of  uncertainty,  that  is  all,"  he  replied. 

150 


The  Castaways 

"Not  for  the  ladies,"  said  Pope  solemnly. 

"I  had  forgotten  them,"  was  the  reply. 

"I  expect  we  shall  have  all  the  uncertainty  we 
want,"  said  Carstairs  amiably;  "but  if  you  find  the 
voyage  palls  we  can  always  land  you  and  Pope 
at  some  place  where  you  can  risk  your  lives.  And 
pick  you  up  afterwards — if  there  is  anything  to  pick 
up.     Now,  what  about  these  guns?" 

Tollhurst  gave  a  direction  to  Biggs,  and  five 
minutes  afterwards  they  pulled  up  at  a  gunsmith's 
and  laid  the  foundations  of  a  small  but  efficient 
armoury.  A  hammerless  ejector  gun,  a  sporting 
rifle,  a  rabbit  rifle,  and  an  automatic  pistol  of  the 
newest  pattern  went  home  with  Pope  in  the  car. 

"To-morrow,"  he  said,  toying  with  the  little 
rifle,  "I  will  get  my  hand  in  on  a  few  rabbits." 

Tollhurst  nodded.  "I  will  come  with  you,"  he 
said;  "but  I  should  advise  the  gun  to  begin  with. 
A  rabbit  is  a  small  target,  you  know." 

"You  know  best,"  said  Pope,  somewhat  ungra- 
ciously. "I  thought  there  would  be  more  sport  with 
a  bullet,  that  is  all.     The  shot-gun  is  too  certain." 

"Sheer  butchery,"  said  Carstairs,  with  a  glance 
at  Tollhurst. 

"They  ought  to  have  a  chance,"  said  Pope  judi- 
cially. "However,  if  Tollhurst  doesn't  think  so, 
perhaps  I  had  better  take  the  gun." 

151 


The  Castaways 

"Take  the  rifle  by  all  means,  if  you  wish,"  said 
Tollhurst.  "The  head  is  as  good  a  place  to  hit 
them  in  as  any,"  he  added,  with  a  return  glance 
at  Carstairs. 

It  was  a  scarcely  perceptible  glance,  but  Pope  saw 
it  and  lapsed  into  silence,  which,  except  for  an 
occasional  grunt,  he  maintained  until  the  end  of  the 
journey.  Upon  one  thing  he  was  determined:  he 
would  astonish  them  all  next  day. 

He  arose  at  six  next  morning,  and  went  out  for 
a  little  preliminary  rifle  practice.  Ten  shots  at  the 
trunk  of  a  beech  tree  at  fifty  yards  furnished  no 
data,  the  wood  simply  swallowing  the  bullets  with- 
out revealing  the  place  of  entry.  An  empty  tomato- 
can  perched  on  a  post  deflected  them  at  ten  yards' 
range  in  a  way  that  was  almost  uncanny.  If  a 
tomato-can  could  behave  in  that  fashion,  what  might 
be  expected  of  a  rabbit?  Perturbed  in  spirit,  Mr. 
Pope  returned  to  the  house  and,  meeting  Biggs  on 
the  way,  gave  him  the  rifle  to  clean. 

In  the  result  he  resolved  to  thin  the  rabbits  out 
(his  own  expression)  with  the  gun,  and  soon  after 
six  that  evening,  accompanied  by  Tollhurst,  he  set 
off  to  a  sandy  bank  on  the  confines  of  the  park. 
Trees  and  gorse  afforded  good  cover,  and,  stealing 
up  with  the  caution  of  a  Red  Indian,  he  discharged 
both  barrels  at  a  little  group  forty  yards  distant. 

152 


The  Castaways 

The  earth  swallowed  them  up  immediately,  includ- 
ing the  two  he  had  hit. 

"I'll  swear  I  winged  them,"  he  said,  after  a 
search. 

Tollhurst  nodded.  "Gone  to  die  in  their  holes," 
he  said  briefly.  "Often  happens.  We  must  try 
further  along  now." 

They  went  on  in  silence,  Pope  with  his  lips  pursed 
and  his  gun  ready.  Restless  rabbits,  unable  to  stay 
in  one  place  for  more  than  a  second  or  two  at  a 
time,  he  ignored.  He  wanted  something  less  mobile, 
and  it  presented  itself  at  last  in  the  shape  of  a 
huge  elderly  buck  rabbit  which  was  sitting  under 
an  oak  tree  taking  the  air.  Trembling  with  ex- 
citement, Pope  held  his  breath,  and  was  just  taking 
careful  aim,  when  the  veteran  arose  and  went  for 
a  gentle  constitutional  behind  a  clump  of  gorse. 

"It's  gone,"  whispered  Pope. 

"Plenty  more,"  said  his  friend.  "Be  quicker 
next  time." 

Mr.  Pope  attributed  his  failure  to  that  advice. 
Left  to  himself,  he  felt  sure  that  he  could  have  shot 
rabbits.  As  it  was,  bits  of  gorse  were  blown  to 
pieces  and  patches  of  turf  rose  into  the  air.  At 
the  end  of  an  hour  Tollhurst,  looking  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  house,  muttered  something  about  dinner. 

"I'll  come  when  I've  got  a  rabbit,"  said  Pope 
grimly.     "You  go."       I53 


The  Castaways 

Left  to  himself,  he  flitted  noiselessly  about  and 
blazed  away  at  intervals,  until  at  length,  tired  and 
dispirited,  he  sat  down  and  drew  out  his  cigarette 
case.  A  figure  approaching  in  the  dusk  drew  near, 
and  revealed  itself  as  Mr.  Biggs. 

"Any  sport,  sir?"  inquired  the  chauffeur  respect- 
fully. 

Pope  told  him.  He  also  referred  in  scathing 
terms  to  the  acrobatic  proclivities  of  his  quarry. 

Mr.  Biggs  looked  longingly  at  the  gun.  "Long 
time  since  I  shot  any,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh. 

"Can  you  shoot?"  inquired  Pope. 

"I've  shot  thousands  in  my  time,  sir,"  said  the 
chauffeur,  "when  I  was  a  boy,  at  home." 

Pope  took  up  his  gun  and  held  it  out  to  him. 
"Kill  a  few  thousands  now,"  he  said  vindictively. 

Mr.  Biggs  thanked  him  and  withdrew  noiselessly. 
An  occasional  report  indicated  that  he  was  doing 
his  best  to  carry  out  instructions.  Pope,  leaning 
back  with  a  pleasant  sense  of  fatigue,  went  on 
smoking.  It  was  not  until  he  had  finished  his  third 
cigarette  that  he  saw' the  chauffeur  returning. 

"Any  luck?"  he  called  out. 

Mr.  Biggs  shook  his  head.  "I  won't  blame 
them,"  he  said  frankly.  "I  suppose  my  eye  is  out, 
or  my  hand;  perhaps  both." 

154 


The  Castaways 

"But "  said  Pope,  and  pointed  to  three  rab- 
bits the  other  was  carrying. 

"Not  mine,  sir,"  said  Biggs.  "Wish  they  were. 
I  picked  them  up  as  I  went  along." 

Pope  stared  at  him.  "They  must  be  mine,  then," 
he  said,  in  a  puzzled  voice. 

"Unless  anybody  else  has  been  shooting,"  said 
Mr.  Biggs,  gazing  afar  off.  "They're  fresh  killed. 
You  must  have  been  shooting  better  than  you 
thought." 

Mr.  Pope  thought  so,  too,  and,  extending  his 
hand  for  the  rabbits  and  the  gun,  set  off  in  the 
direction  of  the  house.  Mr.  Biggs  accompanied 
him  half-way,  and  then,  with  a  respectful  "Good 
night,"  turned  off. 

Tired  but  happy,  Pope  reached  the  house,  and, 
rejecting  the  offer  of  a  footman  to  take  his  burden, 
made  his  way  to  the  dining-room,  and  stood  framed 
in  the  doorway.  A  slight  exclamation  from  Toll- 
hurst  called  attention  to  his  presence. 

"Well  done!"  said  Carstairs. 

Pope  smiled.  "Not  much  of  a  bag,"  he  said 
modestly. 

"Poor  things!"  said  Mrs.  Ginnell,  shaking  her 
head  at  him.     "Murderer!" 

"Not  at  all,"  murmured  Pope. 


155 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  inspection  of  the  yacht  was  so  satis- 
factory that  Carstairs  made  up  his  mind 
on  the  spot,  and  for  the  next  month  or 
two  had  many  pleasant  jaunts  to  Southampton  to 
mark  progress.  Members  of  the  expedition  spent 
the  time  in  providing  things  for  the  voyage  accord- 
ing to  their  several  tastes;  the  fact  that  Albert  had 
laid  in  a  stock  of  three  mouth  organs  and  a  tin 
whistle  coming  in  for  much  adverse  comment  on 
the  part  of  Mr.  Biggs. 

The  Starlight  weighed  anchor  on  a  fine  morning 
in  early  October.  A  light  breeze  and  a  slight  touch 
of  autumn  in  the  air  added  to  the  enjoyment  of 
the  voyagers,  whose  numbers  were  now  increased 
by  an  unnecessarily  good  -  looking  young  doctor 
named  Maloney,  and  Miss  Flack,  a  spinster  of 
mature  years  and  lifelong  friend  of  Mrs.  Jardine. 
Seated  in  little  groups  on  deck,  Mr.  Carstairs' 
guests,  idly  watching  the  passing  craft,  looked  for- 
ward with  some  zest  to  a  life  of  exciting  but  harm- 
less adventure.  The  doctor,  who  had  made  several 
voyages,  was  pleased  to  find  himself  regarded  as 

156 


The  Castaways 

an  authority  on  all  things  nautical,  and  was  at  once 
elevated  to  a  position  from  which  the  other  men 
sought  in  vain  to  remove  him. 

"I  should  have  thought  the  sea  was  the  worst 
place  in  the  world  for  a  man  of  your  profession," 
remarked  Knight,  after  listening  to  one  or  two 
episodes. 

The  doctor  stroked  a  very  fine  moustache. 
"Why?"  he  inquired. 

"No  practice,"  was  the  reply. 

"You're  wrong,"  said  Maloney.  "It's  what  I 
come  to  sea  for.  Suppose  I  was  ashore  and  you 
had  got  to  lose  a  leg,  say.  Would  you  come  to 
me  r 

"I  would  not,"  said  Knight  bluntly. 

"Exactly,"  said  Maloney,  nodding.  "But  you've 
got  no  choice  here.  That's  where  I  have  you.  If 
you  get  anything  wrong  with  you,  you  don't  turn 
over  the  Medical  Directory  and  pick  out  your  man; 
you  come  to  me.  And  you  can't  upset  my  diagnosis. 
That's  a  great  thing.     That's  a  comforting  thing." 

"For  whom?"  inquired  Peplow  seriously. 

"All  of  us,"  said  Maloney,  lowering  his  voice 
as  two  of  the  ladies  passed.  "If  you  pass  away 
because  I  treat  you  for  muscular  rheumatism  by 
removing  your  appendix,  it's  much  better  for  your 
peace  of  mind — to  say  nothing  of  my  own — you 

157 


The  Castaways 

shouldn't  know  that  but  for  a  pardonable  error  you 
might  have  lived  another  fifty  years." 

Mr.  Peplow  shuddered.  "Are  you  an  Irish- 
man?" he  inquired  thoughtfully. 

The  other  shook  his  head.  "Not  since  my 
grandfather,"  he  replied.  "When  I  was  born  the 
brogue  got  mislaid.  Besides,  I  am  too  serious- 
minded  for  an  Irishman." 

"I  never  have  any  use  for  a  doctor,"  said  Knight 
casually,  "but  if  I  had  I  should  choose  a  man  of 
some  age." 

"I'm  just  the  right  age,"  said  Maloney.  "Thirty; 
just  young  enough  to  be  interesting,  and  just  old 
enough  to  know  how  to." 

He  strolled  off  with  a  smile,  and  dropping  into 
a  chair  between  Miss  Seacombe  and  Miss  Blake, 
just  vacated  by  Mrs.  Jardine,  at  once  proceeded  to 
justify  his  statement. 

"Who  shipped  that  chap?"  demanded  Knight, 
turning  to  Pope. 

"Carstairs,"  was  the  reply.  "He  said  that  he 
reminded  him  of  you.  Jolly  chap;  knows  his  job, 
too.  He's  got  a  splendid  lot  of  instruments;  I 
have  seen  them." 

"You'll  see  them  again,"  said  Knight  solemnly. 
"Mark  my  words  if  you  don't.     What  a  romantic 

158 


The  Castaways 

end  to  a  useful  and  well-spent  life,  to  be  buried 
at  sea  a  thousand  miles  from  land!" 

It  was  a  matter  for  congratulation  that  when 
they  emerged  from  the  shelter  of  the  Isle  of  Wight 
they  found  the  Channel  as  smooth  as  the  proverbial 
mill-pond.  The  evening  air  was  bracing  and  just 
cool  enough  to  make  the  change  to  the  warm  dining- 
room  acceptable.  Half-way  through  the  meal  Mr. 
Pope  paid  a  heartfelt  tribute  to  the  cook,  warmly 
seconded  by  Mr.  Peplow. 

"It  must  be  a  beautifully  built  ship,"  said  Miss 
Flack;  "there  is  absolutely  no  motion." 

"And  not  at  all  stuffy,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine. 

"It  is  difficult  to  realise  that  we  are  at  sea,"  said 
Pope,  looking  around. 

"It  is  a  difficulty  that  time  will  solve,"  said  the 
doctor.  "I  had  the  same  difficulty  myself  once, 
and  twelve  hours  later  I  thought  that  I  was  in  a 
boat-swing  that  fancied  itself  a  roundabout." 

"Did  it — did  it  upset  your  digestion?"  inquired 
Miss  Flack  delicately. 

"It  did  not,"  said  the  doctor.  "It  upset  my 
head." 

"Vertigo,"  explained  Pope,  with  a  vise  nod.  • 

"Edge  of  the  fore-scuttle,"  corrected  the  doctor, 
"and  one  of  the  hands  who  was  coming  up  at  the 
time.     He  got  a  very  interesting  case   of  concus- 

159 


The  Castaways 

sion.  He'd  have  been  in  bed  till  the  end  of  the 
voyage  if  the  second  mate  hadn't  taken  the  case  out 
of  my  hands.  He  used  a  counter-irritant  in  the 
shape  of  two  clumps  on  the  head.  I  did  think  of 
sending  an  account  of  the  case  to  the  Lancet." 

Miss  Flack  looked  mystified.  "How  interest- 
ing!" she  murmured,  and  turned  with  some  relief 
to  help  herself  to  trifle. 

The  next  two  days  passed  with  equal  serenity, 
a  condition  of  things  for  which,  judging  from  their 
remarks,  his  gratified  guests  seemed  to  hold  Car- 
stairs  responsible.  Reading,  conversation,  and 
games  made  the  time  pass  pleasantly  enough,  the 
devotion  of  Mr.  Knight  to  law  books  of  a  singu- 
larly uninviting  appearance  calling  for  much  sur- 
prised comment.  It  was  whispered — by  the  admiring 
Mrs.  Ginnell — that  he  was  going  to  read  for  the 
Bar  on  his  return  to  England,  but  after  one  morn- 
ing during  which  a  lot  of  silly  people,  including 
several  old  enough  to  know  better,  walked  round 
and  round  the  ship  in  line  for  the  pleasure  of  pass- 
ing him  on  tiptoe  and  saying  "Hshf"  as  they  ap- 
proached, he  threw  up  his  studies  in  disgust. 

He  awoke  on  the  fourth  day  at  sea  to  find  his 
bunk  out  of  the  horizontal  and  a  floor  which  was 
never  in  the  same  place  for  two  seconds  together. 
He   shaved   himself  carefully   and,   grinning   with 

1 60 


The  Castaways 

anticipation,  went  on  deck.  The  fresh  morning  air, 
with  a  touch  of  rain  in  it,  was  delightful,  but  the 
sea  was  of  a  dirty  brown  and  the  sky  overcast. 
The  deck  looked  wet  and  desolate;  the  bows  rose 
and  fell  again  with  a  resounding  slap. 

"Dirty  weather?"  he  inquired  of  the  boatswain, 
who  was  passing. 

"Not  yet,  sir,"  was  the  reply,  "but  I  fancies  as 
we  shall  get  it  in  the  Bay.  If  I  was  you,  sir,  I 
should  eat  all  I  could  stow  away  to-day." 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right,"  said  Knight  sharply.  "I 
was  thinking  of  the  others — the  ladies." 

Mr.  Tarn  nodded,  and  turned  to  gaze  with  some 
interest  at  Miss  Mudge,  who,  appearing  hastily 
from  the  companion,  passed  them  in  a  series  of 
little  tottering  runs.  Between  runs  she  stood  sway- 
ing to  and  fro  in  an  effort  to  regain  her  balance 
and  gazing  with  much  distaste  at  the  tumbling  seas. 
The  boatswain,  with  a  deprecatory  glance  at  Knight, 
stepped  up  to  her  and  steadied  her  with  a  power- 
ful arm  about  her  waist.  She  turned  with  a  faint 
scream. 

"All  right,"  he  said  reassuringly,  "I've  got  you; 
you're  quite  safe." 

"Safe?"  repeated  Miss  Mudge.  "You're  choking 
the  life  out  of  me.  I  thought  the  machinery  had 
got  hold  of  me." 

161 


The  Castaways 

"I  thought  you  was  going  to  fall,"  said  the  boat* 
swain,  letting  out  a  reef.     "Is  that  better?" 

Miss  Mudge's  head  dropped  to  his  shoulder  and 
her  eyes  half  closed.  He  led  her  to  a  seat  and  sat 
down,  still  supporting  her,  until  an  angry  bark  from 
the  bridge  sent  him  about  his  business.  Deprived 
of  his  support,  moral  and  physical,  the  girl  rose  and, 
steering  an  erratic  course  for  the  companion,  dis- 
appeared below. 

Seats  at  the  breakfast-table  began  to  empty  be- 
fore the  conclusion  of  the  performance.  The  dining- 
saloon  had  suddenly  become  stuffy  and  odorous,  the 
smell  of  fried  engine  oil  being  particularly  notice- 
able. Bulkheads  creaked,  and  articles  on  the  table 
became  endowed  with  movement. 

"We  shall  have  to  have  the  fiddles  rigged  for 
lunch,  I  expect,"  said  Tollhurst. 

"There  is  a  little  bit  of  a  sea  on,"  said  Pope, 
as  he  arose  and  assisted  Mrs.  Ginnell  to  the  door. 
"Perhaps  I  had  better  help  you  to  your  cabin." 

The  couple  disappeared,  followed  with  longing 
eyes  by  Markham.  The  under-stewards,  jealous  of 
his  authority,  watched  him  gloatingly.  Pale  of  face 
and  compressed  of  lip  he  stuck  to  his  post  wonder- 
ing whether  he  could  endure  to  the  end. 

"I  feel  unwell,"  said  Carstairs,  rising  suddenly. 
"And  I  don't  care  who  knows  it,"  he  added,  look- 

162 


The  Castaways 

ing  at  the  grinning  faces  before  him.  "Markham, 
you  are  feeling  it,  too.  You  had  better  get  to  your 
bunk.  There  will  be  quite  enough  left  to — to  look 
after — the  survivors." 

He  vanished  with  some  precipitancy,  followed  by 
the  butler.  Mrs.  Jardine,  the  only  lady  left,  rose 
from  her  chair  and  with  an  undisturbed  mien  went 
off  to  the  drawing-room.  The  men  went  up  to 
the  smoke-room  and  lit  cigarettes.  Through  the 
doorway  on  the  leeward  side  they  caught  glimpses 
of  white-topped  seas  scurrying  past.  Mr.  Peplow, 
to  observe  them  better,  left  the  smoke-room  and 
did  a  stately  cake-walk  to  the  side,  where  he  re- 
mained, heedless  of  the  rain  and  spray. 

"We  are  going  right  into  it,"  observed  the  doctor 
returning  from  a  visit  to  the  doorway. 

Talwyn  stared  at  him  disagreeably.  "Going  into 
it?     We  are  in  it,  aren't  we?"  he  demanded. 

"Not  on  the  edge  of  it  yet,"  replied  the  doctor 
cheerfully. 

Talwyn  grunted  and,  regarding  his  cigarette  with 
some  disfavour,  threw  it  away.  Then,  muttering 
something  in  his  pocket-handkerchief,  he  got  up  and 
went  out.    Within  ten  minutes  the  doctor  was  alone. 

The  wind  increased  as  the  day  wore  on,  and  at 
luncheon  Mrs.  Jardine,  his  only  companion,  rose 
before  the  meal  was  finished  and,  with  a  look  equally 

163 


The  Castaways 

compounded  of  surprise  and  indignation,  quitted  the 
saloon.  By  next  morning  it  was  blowing  a  gale, 
which  continued  with  unabated  violence  throughout 
the  day. 

It  was  not  until  the  day  after  that  that  Mr. 
Knight,  who  had  been  keeping  body  and  soul  to- 
gether with  judicious  doses  of  brandy  and  water, 
swung  his  feet  over  the  edge  of  the  bunk  and  low- 
ered himself  slowly  to  the  floor.  His  neglected 
watch  had  stopped,  and  he  was  even  in  some  doubt 
as  to  the  day  of  the  week.  He  opened  the  door, 
and,  clutching  at  anything  that  offered  support,  made 
his  way  to  Mr.  Peplow's  cabin,  and  sank  exhausted 
on  the  velvet  settee. 

"Halloa !"  said  Mr.  Peplow  feebly,  turning  a  dull 
eye  on  him.     "What  do  you  want?" 

"Bright  and  entertaining  society,"  retorted 
Knight,  with  weak  ferocity. 

His  friend  made  no  reply,  but,  turning  away, 
closed  his  eyes  and  tried  to  forget  his  troubles  in 
sleep.  Knight,  lying  on  the  settee,  listened  drearily 
to  the  creaking  of  timbers,  the  distant  crash  of 
crockery  from  the  stewards'  pantry,  and  the  mo- 
notonous sound  of  the  bilge  as  it  washed  to  and 
fro.  The  door  opened  and  the  horrible  reek  of 
a  cigar  assailed  his  nostrils.  He  turned  a  languid 
head  to  see  Maloney  standing  in  the  doorway. 

164 


The  Castaways 

"Just  had  a  look  into  your  cubby-hole,"  he  said, 
entering.  "Thought  perhaps  you  had  gone  over- 
board." 

"Take — it — away,"  said  Knight. 

The  doctor  looked  puzzled.  "Oh,  the  cigar!" 
he  said,  with  a  laugh.  "I'll  hold  it  outside  the 
door.  It's  one  of  Pope's  best.  He  has  just  given 
me  the  box.    Says  he  never  wants  to  see  one  again." 

"What's — time?"  inquired  Knight,  with  an  effort. 

"Just  gone  four.     Are  you  going  to  get  up?" 

"Where  are — the — others?"  inquired  Knight. 

"All  in  bed  except  two,"  was  the  reply.  "I've 
had  my  hands  full,  I  can  tell  you.  There's  still  a 
big  sea  running.  Miss  Seacombe  describes  it  as 
mountainous." 

"Is — is  she  up?"  inquired  Knight,  starting. 

"And  Mrs.  Ginnell,"  said  Maloney.  "Beth  made 
an  effort  and  got  up  to  breakfast.  Slight  relapse 
after  breakfast,  but  turned  up  to  lunch.  They've 
got  ten  times  the  pluck  of  the  men.  I've  got  'em 
both  up  on  deck  wrapped  up  in  shawls  in  lounge 
chairs." 

Knight  groaned,  and  putting  his  feet  to  the  floor 
got  up  and  looked  out  at  the  porthole.  With  an- 
other groan  he  returned  to  the  settee. 

"Don't  you  worry  about  them,"  said  Maloney 

165 


The  Castaways 

gently;  "they're  all  right.  I'm  reading  poetry  to 
them." 

"Poetry?"  gasped  Knight. 

"Keats,"  said  the  other,  nodding.  "It's  Miss 
Seacombe's  favourite.  After  dinner  I'm  going  to 
give  her  some  of  my  own.  I  shall  tell  her  it's 
Shelley.     There's  one  little  thing  of  mine " 

"Oh,  go  to  blazes!"  moaned  the  indignant 
Knight.     "Are  they  strapped  in  their  chairs?" 

"They  are  not,"  said  the  doctor.  "If  you  had 
ever  heard  me  read  poetry  you  would  not  ask  me 
that  question.  Why  not  make  an  effort  and  get  up 
and  come  and  hear  me?  It's  only  a  question  of 
will-power." 

"Go  away,"  said  Knight. 

"Talk  to  yourself  firmly.  Say  over  six  times: 
'I  will  be  a  man;  I  will  not  lie  about  like  a  dying 
duck  in  a  thunderstorm  in  pink  pyjamas  with  blue 
stripes  undone  at  the  neck.'  " 

"This  —  is  the  doctor  —  Freddie,"  observed 
Knight  bitterly. 

1  Send  him  away,"  faltered  Mr.  Peplow. 

"It's  curing  you  I  would  be,"  said  the  doctor. 
"Trying  to  shame  you  into  your  trousers.  I  cured 
a  man  of  the  sea-sickness  once  by  sitting  on  his 
diaphragm.  It  was  the  indignity  of  the  thing  that 
he  didn't  like.     In  the  wild  desire  to  kill  one  of 

166 


The  Castaways 

the  best  doctors  in  England  he  forgot  all  about  his 
illness." 

Knight  closed  his  eyes. 

"Well,  I  must  be  going,"  continued  Maloney. 
"I  mustn't  keep  the  ladies  waiting.  I  suppose  you 
haven't  got  a  voice  lozenge  about  you?" 

He  took  two  or  three  sharp  puffs  at  his  cigar, 
which  had  nearly  gone  out,  and  vanished  in -a  cloud 
of  malodorous  smoke. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  broken  only  by  a  faint 
moan  from  Mr.  Peplow.  Then  Knight,  fired  by 
the  story  of  the  owner  of  the  outraged  diaphragm, 
rose  unsteadily  to  his  feet,  and  tottered  back  to  his 
cabin.  A  small  figure,  lying  on  its  back  on  his  settee 
with  its  knees  drawn  up,  eyed  him  wanly. 

"Albert!"  exclaimed  the  astonished  Knight. 

The  boy  pointed  a  trembling  finger  at  a  siphon 
of  soda  which  was  rolling  about  on  the  floor  with 
a  broken  plate  and  some  dry  biscuits.  As  a  defence 
it  seemed  incomplete. 

"Then  I  had — to — lay  down,"  said  Albert,  with 
a  shudder. 

He  turned  over  on  his  left  side,  drew  his  knees 
up  to  his  chin,  and  composed  himself  to  slumber. 
By  a  great  effort  Knight  managed  to  retrieve  a 
couple  of  biscuits  and  the  soda  and  cut  his  foot 
on  the  broken  plate.     A  stiff  peg  of  brandy  and 

167 


The  Castaways 

soda,  together  with  the  biscuits,  helped  to  revive 
him.  He  took  his  clothes  from  the  floor  and,  with 
trembling  fingers,  proceeded  to  dress  himself. 

He  gained  the  deck  with  some  difficulty  and, 
swaying  with  weakness,  stood  holding  on  to  a  rail. 
After  the  atmosphere  below  the  strong,  clean  air 
was  delicious,  and  he  did  his  best  to  ignore  the 
heaving  seas  and  a  couple  of  performing  fishing- 
boats.  Slowly  and  carefully  he  made  his  way  aft 
to  the  sheltered  spot  where  Maloney  was  reading 
to  his  fair  patients. 

A  little  delighted  exclamation  from  Mrs.  Ginnell 
and  a  smile  from  Miss  Seacombe  greeted  his  arrival. 
Mutual  congratulations  were  exchanged. 

"He  had  better  have  your  chair,"  said  Miss  Sea- 
combe to  the  reader. 

The  doctor  rose,  and  Knight,  having  by  dint  of 
skilful  balancing  taken  the  chair  without  mishap, 
bestowed  a  smile,  right  and  left,  on  his  fair  com- 
panions. It  was  returned  with  interest,  and  Mrs. 
Ginnell,  taking  possession  of  his  left  hand,  patted 
it  affectionately. 

"He  has  got  the  turn  now,  I  think,"  said  the 
doctor,  regarding  him  with  a  professional  eye.  "I 
have  done  my  part;  all  he  wants  now  is  careful 
nursing." 

Knight,  still  weak  and  dizzy,  looked  at  the  vol- 
168 


The  Castaways 

ume    of   poems   in   the    other's   hand    and   smiled 
maliciously. 

"Page  fifty-seven,"  said  Maloney,  thrusting  it 
into  his  hand,  "fourth  line.  Take  it  easy  to  begin 
with  and  don't  strain  your  voice.  It's  time  I  went 
off  and  looked  after  the  other  poor  sufferers." 


169 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  SOMEWHAT  disillusioned  Mrs.  Jardine 
appeared  at  the  breakfast-table  next  morn- 
ing, but  until  the  ship  arrived  at  Gibraltar 
most  of  the  company  preferred  to  take  their  meals 
in  their  cabins.  Flying  visits  to  the  deck  were  made 
by  one  or  two  members,  but  like  the  trial-flights 
of  fledglings,  they  were  of  short  duration,  Mr.  Pope 
on  one  occasion  having  to  suffer  the  indignity  of  be- 
ing helped  back  to  his  nest  by  Albert. 

The  stability  of  Gibraltar  gave  universal  satis- 
faction, and  it  was  felt  that  Great  Britain  had  de- 
served well  of  her  citizens  by  acquiring  it.  Delight- 
ful to  know  that  when  you  put  your  foot  down 
there  was  something  there  to  meet  it. 

The  Rock  left  behind,  they  came  in  for  an  un- 
broken spell  of  fine  weather.  Port  after  port  helped 
to  break  the  monotony  of  life  on  shipboard,  and 
Carstairs  noted  with  pleasure  the  good-fellowship 
prevailing  between  his  guests.  Only  Knight  and 
Peplow,  conferring  apart,  had  occasion  to  describe 
the  smiling  good-nature  of  Lady  Penrose  and  Mrs. 
Jardine  as  barefaced  duplicity. 

1 70 


The  Castaways 

"They  have  never  paid  me  so  much  attention," 
said  Knight  bitterly. 

Mr.  Peplow  groaned. 

"I'm  a  sort  of  human  magnet,"  continued  his 
friend.  "Yesterday  afternoon  the  smoke-room  was 
empty  and  I  took  Winifred  in  to  see  me  smoke  a 
cigarette.  Lady  Penrose  came  in  to  witness  the 
performance  two  minutes  later,  and  within  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  I  was  the  centre  of  an  admiring  circle 
of  five." 

"And  Talwyn  was  with  me,"  said  Mr.  Peplow. 
"That  is  to  say,  he  was  boring  Effie  with  his  con- 
versation, and  I  went  to  the  rescue." 

"And  when  you  are  boring  her  he  comes  to  the 
rescue,"  said  Knight.  "The  whole  fact  of  the  mat- 
ter is,  this  ship  is  too  small;  but  even  ashore  I  get 
a  large  following.  That  chap  Tollhurst  is  trying 
to  make  himself  amiable  to  Lady  Penrose.  He 
hangs  about  her  like  a  shadow,  and  when  she  is 
not  on  guard  over  me  he  takes  over  her  duties. 
Wonder  where  Talwyn  picked  him  up?" 

Mr.  Peplow  shook  his  head.  "Don't  matter 
where  he  was  picked  up,"  he  murmured,  "trouble 
is,  he  is  here." 

"What  Is  it?"  asked  Maloney,  sauntering  up.  "A 
mothers'  meeting?  or  a  Young  Men's  Mutual  Im- 
provement Society?    Why  aren't  you  in  the  smoke- 

171 


The  Castaways 

room?  Pope  is  doing  card-tricks.  He  is  standing 
with  his  eyes  shut  to  show  there  is  no  deception, 
while  we  draw  cards.  The  opportunity  was  too 
much  for  my  politeness.  He  has  muffed  two  tricks 
already." 

"You  have  set  a  bad  example,"  said  Knight,  as 
Miss  Blake,  followed  by  Talwyn,  slipped  furtively 
out  of  the  smoke-room  and  went  forward. 

Mr.  Peplow  followed  his  friend's  glance,  and  in 
a  careless  fashion  started  to  move  off. 

"No,"  said  the  doctor,  shaking  his  head.  "Better 
not." 

Mr.  Peplow  drew  himself  up  and  stared  at  him. 

"Wrong  tactics,"  said  the  unmoved  doctor.  "Let 
her  get  fed  up  with  him." 

Mr.  Peplow,  fiery  red  in  colour,  turned  and  looked 
appealingly  at  Knight. 

"And  miss  you,"  continued  Maloney.  "Cake  is 
a  nice  thing,  but  one  can  have  too  much  of  it.  Let 
her  go  without  it  for  a  day." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Peplow,  with  great 
dignity.     "Cake!" 

"Or  anything  else  sweet  and  wholesome,"  replied 
the  doctor,  looking  him  over.  "You  be  guided  by 
me.  I've  seen  a  lot  of  this  sort  of  thing.  Taken 
a  hand  in  it,  too,  when  I  was  young.  Oh,  I  know 
just  what's  going  on,  and  watching  it  gives  me  a 

172 


The  Castaways 

lot  of  quiet  pleasure  in  the  few  moments  I  can 
snatch  from  my  duties.  It's  no  use  getting  stuffy; 
I  can't  help  having  an  observant  eye,  any  more  than 
I  can  help  interfering  in  lost  causes.  All  big  natures 
are  like  that." 

Mr.  Peplow  was  saved  a  reply  by  the  appear- 
ance of  Pope  from  the  smoke-room.  His  voice 
came  booming  along  the  deck. 

"Of  course  the  trick  failed,"  he  complained. 
"When  you  tell  a  man  to  draw  a  card  and  put  it 
back,  and  he  puts  it  in  his  pocket  instead  and 
disappears,  the  thing's  impossible.  Where's  that 
doctor?" 

"Time  for  me  to  disappear,"  said  Maloney.  "I 
never  attempt  to  defend  an  impossible  position. 
Come  down  in  my  cabin  and  have  a  chat.  Subject : 
Dowagers  and  how  to  circumvent  'em." 

He  disappeared,  and  Knight  and  Peplow,  after 
a  moment's  hesitation,  followed. 

The  doctor's  subject  was  one  that  might  have 
been  of  interest  to  Miss  Mudge,  who  had  been 
for  some  time  suffering  from  the  unwelcome  chaper- 
onage  of  Miss  Flack.  Miss  Mudge  would  have 
been  the  first  to  admit  that  she  came  in  for  an 
undue  amount  of  attention;  what  she  would  not 
admit  was  that  she  required  any  assistance  in  deal- 
ing with  it.     Besieged  by  the  engine-room,  the  fore- 

173 


The  Castaways 

castle,  and  the  steward's  pantry,  she  more  than  held 
her  own — a  fact  which  only  increased  the  ardour 
of  the  victims. 

At  meal-times  she  was  free.  The  deck  was 
empty  and  the  passengers  below.  At  such  times, 
with  a  book  for  use  and  some  needlework  for  show, 
it  was  her  practice  to  lead  the  way  to  the  bows 
followed  by  some  delighted  seaman  carrying  a  deck- 
chair.  At  lunch-time  on  the  day  following  Mr. 
Pope's  card-tricks  the  chair  of  state  was  borne  by 
Mr.  Tarn,  the  boatswain.  Not  by  happy  chance, 
but  owing  to  a  few  plain  words  aimed  at  a  couple 
of  hands  who  were  hanging  about  waiting  to  per- 
form the  office  instead  of  going  on  with  their  work. 

"How's  that?"  he  inquired,  planting  the  chair. 

Miss  Mudge  arranged  herself  and  let  fall  a  ball 
of  wool,  which  the  boatswain  pursued.  He  re- 
turned winding  up  the  slack. 

"The  other  side,  I  think,"  said  the  girl,  rising. 

Mr.  Tarn  made  the  adjustment,  and,  stroking 
a  yellow  moustache,  stood  watching  her  with  a 
world  of  patient  devotion  in  his  fine  blue  eyes. 

"Wonderful  pleasant,  ain't  it?"  he  ventured  at 
last. 

Miss  Mudge  yawned.  "Rather  boring,"  she 
said.     "Nothing  seems  to  happen  at  sea." 

"But  you've  been  ashore,"  said  the  boatswain. 
174 


The  Castaways 

"Oh,  yes,  I've  been  ashore,"  said  the  girl  lan- 
guidly, "but  it  isn't  like  England,  you  know.  I 
don't  call  it  civilised.  I  am  not  used  to  rough- 
ing it." 

"Anybody  could  see  that — with  half  an  eye,"  said 
the  boatswain.  "The  first  time  I  see  you,  I  says 
to  the  carpenter,  'That's  a  dainty  little  piece  of 
goods,'  I  says." 

"And  what  did  he  say?"  inquired  Miss  Mudge 
carelessly. 

The  boatswain  was  not  prepared  for  the  ques- 
tion. "It  don't  matter  what  'e  said,"  he  replied 
guardedly,  "but  I  told  'im  if  ever  he  said  it  agin 
I'd  give  him  something  for  himself  he'd  remember 
all  his  lifetime." 

Miss  Mudge's  languor  disappeared.  "I  don't 
like  sailors,"  she  said  tartly.  "I  suppose  they  have 
to  go  to  sea  because  nobody  will  employ  them 
ashore." 

"There's  sailormen  and  sailormen,"  said  the 
boatswain  tenderly;  "there's  me,  and  there's  the  car- 
penter. Are  you  keeping  company  with  anybody? 
I'm  not." 

The  girl  shook  her  head  and  half-closed  her  eyes. 
"Certainly  not,"  she  said  slowly.  "I  don't  like  men. 
Heaps  and  heaps  have  asked  me,  but  I've  always 
said  'No.'     I  prefer  my  liberty." 

175 


The  Castaways 

The  boatswain  gazed  at  her  with  ardour.  "Per- 
haps you  haven't  met  the  right  one,"  he  said  hope- 
fully. 

There  was  no  reply,  and  he  ventured  a  little 
closer.  The  second  mate  was  on  the  bridge,  a 
man  of  kindly  nature  and  tolerant  views.  More- 
over, he  was  out  of  earshot. 

"Why  don't  you  come  for'ard  a  bit  oftener?" 
breathed  the  boatswain. 

"Come  forward?  What  for?"  inquired  the  girl, 
bending  over  the  stocking  she  was  darning. 

Mr.  Tarn  came  a  little  closer  still.  "Ter  see 
me!"  he  said  tenderly. 

"Phh!  I  see  quite  enough  of  you,"  was  the 
reply.  "Besides,  you're  the  sort  of  man  that  looks 
best  a  long  way  off." 

The  boatswain  drew  back,  gasping.  The  little 
bit  of  broken  looking-glass  nailed  to  the  side  of 
his  bunk  told  a  much  more  flattering  tale.  He 
gazed  at  the  fluffy  head  bent  over  its  work  and 
tried  again. 

"  'Sides  which,"  he  said  slowly,  "there's  more 
breeze  for'ard,  and  if  there's  anything  to  see  you 

see  it  fust,  and — and Why,  your  little  shoe's 

undone !" 

He  knelt  down  to  adjust  it,  just  as  a  sharp  cough 
176 


The  Castaways 

sounded  from  behind.  He  turned  his  head  to  sec 
Mr.  Markham  emerging  from  the  smoke-room. 

"Pore  stooard,"  he  said,  as  the  butler  ap- 
proached; "he's  got  a  cold,  ain't  he?  Or  p'r'aps 
it's  a  fish-bone  stuck  in  'is  throat.  Well,  he  ought 
to  wait  till  they've  finished." 

"You've  no  business  talking  to  lady  passengers, 
bo'sun,"  said  the  butler  sharply. 

"You're  right,  matey,"  retorted  Mr.  Tarn. 
"This  ain't  bisness,  it's  pleasure.  I'm  teaching  the 
lady  'ow  to  tie  knots;  she  won't  undo  this  not  if 
she  tries  for  hours  and  hours." 

"What?"  exclaimed  the  girl  sharply. 

"When  you  want  to  take  'em  off,"  said  the  boat- 
swain, beaming  at  her  as  he  rose  to  his  feet,  "you 
come  to  me.  You  come  to  me  every  morning  to 
do  'em  up  and  every  night  to  undo  'em.  Bless  you, 
I  like  work.     Here,  I'll  darn  that  for  you." 

"Bo'sun,  you  forget  yourself,"  cried  the  butler, 
as  Miss  Mudge  drew  back  quickly. 

"What,  ain't  you  gone  yet?"  inquired  Mr.  Tarn, 
with  affected  surprise.  "What  about  washing  up 
them  plates  and  licking  the  grease  off  the  knives? 
Don't  look  like  that;  you'll  break  something." 

"I  wish  you  two  would  go  away  and  quarrel 
somewhere   else,"   said   the   highly   gratified   Miss 

177 


The  Castaways 

Mudge.     "How  do  you  think  I  can  get  on  with 
my  work?" 

"What's  the  matter?"  inquired  Mr.  Biggs,  who 
had  just  sidled  up.     "Are  these  men  annoying  you  ?" 

"They  make  me  nervous,"  said  Miss  Mudge. 
"I'm  so  afraid  there'll  be  bloodshed." 

"Butler,"  said  Mr.  Biggs  gravely,  "you  ought  to 
be  below;  your  engines'll  stop  if  you  neglect  your 
stoking  like  this.  I  looked  down  through  the  sky- 
light as  I  passed,  and  I  saw  the  furnace-doors  all 
open  in  a  row  waiting  for  you  to  shove  your  burnt- 
offerings  into  'em." 

"I  don't  want  any  of  your  vulgarity,"  returned 
the  butler  hotly.  "That's  not  the  way  to  speak 
of  your  master  and  his  friends." 

"Get  off  to  your  duty,  my  man,"  said  Mr.  Biggs. 
"I  shouldn't  like  you  to  lose  your  job — you'd  never 
get  another.  And  I  was  going  to  tell  the  bo'sun 
that  the  first  officer  wants  a  word  with  him,  but  I 
don't  think  I  will." 

The  boatswain,  with  a  languishing  glance,  with- 
drew somewhat  hastily,  and  Mr.  Biggs,  leaning 
against  the  side  with  his  back  to  the  butler,  bent 
over  Miss  Mudge.  Mr.  Markham,  after  a  short 
inward  struggle,  returned  to  his  duties. 

"You'll  cause  a  lot  of  trouble  if  you're  not  care- 
ful," said  Biggs. 

178 


The  Castaways 

"Me?"  said  the  girl  plaintively.  "I'm  sure  I 
can't  help  it.  You  don't  think  I  want  to  be  pestered 
out  of  my  life  by  a  parcel  of  silly  men,  do  you? 
I'd  much  rather  be  alone.  I  don't  want  to  talk 
to  anybody.     I  want  to  sit  quiet." 

Her  companion  coughed.  "The  idea  of  the 
bo'sun  worrying  you  with  his  silly  talk!"  he  said, 
after  a  pause.     "Cheek!" 

"It's  no  sillier  than  what  I  am  used  to,"  said 
Miss  Mudge  resignedly.  "He's  no  worse  than  the 
others.  I  rather  like  him  in  a  way;  he  reminds 
me  of  a  friend  of  mine  who's  a  sailor.  Leastways, 
he's  an  engineer — a  real  engineer." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  a  'real'  engineer?"  de- 
manded Biggs,  somewhat  shortly. 

"Why,  a  proper  engineer,"  replied  the  girl.  "A 
gentleman  who  has  got  certificates  and  passed  ex- 
aminations, and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

Mr.  Biggs  controlled  himself  by  an  effort;  ex- 
perience had  taught  him  the  danger  of  displaying 
temper.     He  smiled  loftily. 

"There's  not  much  to  learn  in  a  ship's  engines," 
he  said.  "I  know  about  all  there  is  to  know  al- 
ready. But  I  shall  stick  to  cars.  The  sea  wouldn't 
do  for  me;  I'm  fond  of  home." 

"But — but  you  might  get  married  some  day," 
objected  the  girl. 

179 


The  Castaways 

"Well?"  said  the  other,  staring. 

"And  then  it  would  be  much  nicer  for  everybody 
if  you  went  to  sea.  I'm  sure  your  wife  would  like 
it  better." 

Mr.  Biggs  had  another  inward  struggle,  and  the 
issue  was  still  undecided  when  Albert,  appearing  at 
the  door  of  the  smoke-room,  came  slowly  forward 
and  sat  down  on  the  deck  a  couple  of  yards  from 
them.  The  chauffeur  glared  at  him  in  disgust,  and 
a  smothered  exclamation  broke  from  him  as  the 
boy  drew  a  mouth-organ  from  his  pocket  and  gave 
it  a  preparatory  wipe  on  his  sleeve. 

"Run  away,"  growled  Biggs. 

Albert  shook  his  head.  "I've  as  much  right  to 
be  here  as  what  you  have,"  he  said.  "I've  put 
the  things  straight  in  the  smoke-room,  and  Mr. 
Markham  said  I  could  come  out  and  amuse  my- 
self.    What  piece  would  you  like?" 

He  put  the  instrument  to  his  lips,  and  the  strains 
of  "A  Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave"  floated  over  the 
placid  sea.  His  eyes  were  half-closed  with  the 
ecstasy  of  the  artist,  but  nevertheless  he  kept  a 
shrewd  watch  on  the  movements  of  the  palpitating 
Mr.  Biggs. 

"Now  you  run  off,"  repeated  Mr.  Biggs,  in  a 
grim  voice,  when  the  boy  had  finished.  "Run  off, 
before  you  get  hurt." 

i8o 


The  Castaways 

"It  don't  hurt  me,"  said  Albert  simply.  "It  doe9 
me  good.  Dr.  Maloney  says  that  playing  wind  in- 
struments is  good  for  the  lungs.  He  told  me  so 
yesterday." 

He  raised  the  mouth-organ  again  and  played 
"Home,  Sweet  Home"  with  variations  and  much 
feeling. 

"Why  don't  you  go  to  the  other  end  of  the  ship?" 
growled  the  infuriated  chauffeur. 

"  'Cos  I  like  this  end,"  said  Albert,  finishing  a 
passage.     "Why  don't  you  go?" 

Mr.  Biggs  looked  at  Miss  Mudge,  but  that  lady 
made  no  sign.  Then,  turning  his  head,  he  saw  the 
butler  standing  in  the  doorway  of  the  smoke-room. 
His  hands  were  folded  in  front  of  him  and  a  ser- 
aphic smile  played  over  his  features  as  he  stood 
gazing  over  the  everlasting  sea. 


181 


CHAPTER  XV 

EXCEPT  for  an  occasion  on  which  Miss 
Mudge  was  lost  at  Colombo  and  was  brought 
back  to  the  ship  by  three  Cingalese  gentle- 
men in  striped  petticoats  with  their  hair  done  up 
in  a  bun,  the  voyage  progressed  without  incident. 
Between  ports  nothing  happened  to  break  the  mo- 
notony of  the  days,  and,  in  these  circumstances,  even 
the  youngest  and  fairest  began  to  attach  an  impor- 
tance to  meal-times  that  was  totally  lacking  on  shore. 
Some  of  the  older  members  began  to  put  on  flesh, 
and  Mr.  Pope,  confronted  by  the  twin  evils  of  cor- 
pulence and  a  liver  that  clamoured  for  attention, 
laid  his  case  before  the  doctor. 

"No  good  coming  to  me,"  said  Maloney 
brusquely;  "you  ought  to  see  a  magistrate." 

"Magistrate?  What  for?"  demanded  the  other, 
staring. 

"Six  months'  hard  labour,"  replied  the  doctor. 
"I've  seen  your  kind  before.  What  you  want  me 
to  do  is  to  give  you  something  in  a  bottle  that  will 
work  miracles;  an  antidote  for  four  heavy  meals 

182 


The  Castaways 

a  day  and  strong  cigars  in  between.     How  many 
old  brandies  did  you  have  after  dinner  last  night?" 

"Two,"  said  Pope  slowly.  "There's  no  need  to 
look  like  that;  you  had  three." 

"Absence  of  mind,"  declared  the  doctor.  "I  was 
thinking  out  a  problem  in  medical  science.  It  might 
just  as  well  have  been  water;  I  shouldn't  have 
known." 

"You  work  out  problems  every  night,  then,"  said 
Pope,  "and  I've  never  seen  you  take  water  with 
them  yet.  It's  a  bad  example  for  a  doctor  to  set; 
naturally  other  people  think  it  is  right  to  do  what 
he  does." 

"It's  wasting  good  breath  on  you  to  argue,"  said 
Maloney,  "and  it's  wasting  the  best  possible  medi- 
cal skill  to  try  and  treat  you." 

"I'm  going  to  be  treated  all  the  same,  though," 
declared  Pope,  breathing  hard. 

Maloney  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "All  right; 
come  along,  then,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "I'll  mix 
you  up  a  little  bottle." 

"Will  it  do  me  any  good?"  inquired  the  patient. 

"Not  the  least  in  the  world,"  was  the  reply. 
"It's  merely  to  put  your  mind  at  ease.  Fortified 
with  the  mixture  (two  table-spoonfuls  three  times 
a  day),  you  will  indulge  more  than  ever." 

183 


The  Castaways 

"But  I  want  to  be  treated  properly,"  protested 
Pope.     "I  want  to  get  well." 

"Will  you  put  yourself  into  my  hands?"  demanded 
the  doctor. 

Pope  eyed  him  uneasily.  "Of  course,"  he  said 
at  last,  "with 

"No  'withs,'  "  said  the  other  sternly,  "and  no 
mental  reservations.  It's  a  bad  case,  a  case  that 
most  men  would  jib  at,  but  if  you  promise  to  do 
exactly  as  I  tell  you  I'll  undertake  it." 

"I've  always  understood  that  any  sudden 
change "  began  Pope. 

The  doctor  turned  to  Knight,  who  had  just  come 
up  with  Talwyn  and  Tollhurst.  "He's  going  to 
teach  me  my  business  now,"  he  said  despairingly. 

"All  right,"  said  Pope  gruffly,  "do  as  you  like." 

"You  hear,"  said  Maloney,  turning  to  the  audi- 
ence. "My  patient  has  placed  himself  unreservedly 
in  my  hands.  Two  months'  treatment,  and  he  will 
be  a  convert  to  the  simple  life.  His  taste  for  al- 
cohol, tobacco,  and  strong  meats  will  be  entirely 
eradicated,  and  the  dinner-bell  will  serve  merely  to 
remind  him  of  past  errors." 

Mr.  Pope  began  his  treatment  the  same  day,  and 
dined  simply  and  healthfully  off  a  pint  of  hot  water. 
Conversation  in  his  immediate  neighbourhood 
languished,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  all  when  he  arose 

184 


The  Castaways 

and,  with  unpleasant  emphasis,  announced  his  in- 
tention of  going  on  deck  for  a  mouthful  of  fresh 
air. 

Conditions  were  relaxed  next  day.  He  break- 
fasted off  dry  toast,  lunched  off  biscuits,  and  for 
dinner  was  allowed  both,  his  sole  reward  consist- 
ing in  the  praise  accorded  to  his  strength  of  mind; 
praise  chorused  by  his  friends  between  savoury 
mouthfuls  and  brimming  beakers. 

Diet  and  exercise  were  the  two  principal  remedies 
in  the  doctor's  medicine  chest,  and  in  arranging  the 
latter  to  suit  Mr.  Pope's  wishes  a  little  inconvenience 
was  occasioned  to  others.  The  patient  naturally 
objected  to  performing  skipping  and  other  exercises 
before  an  audience  of  candid,  and  in  some  cases 
outspoken,  friends,  and  in  these  circumstances  the 
doctor  agreed  to  get  up  and  superintend  them  at 
six  in  the  morning. 

"Everybody  will  be  asleep  at  that  time,"  he  said 
encouragingly,  "except  the  crew,  and  they'll  be  too 
busy  washing  decks  to  bother  about  you." 

Mr.  Pope  raised  another  objection. 

"Cold  water  won't  hurt  you,"  said  the  doctor, 
"and  for  the  lying  down  turn  you  can  have  a  rug. 
There's  one  beautiful  exercise  where  you  lie  on 
your  back  and  describe  circles  with  your  legs.  It's 
the  one  Adonis  used  to  do." 

185 


The  Castaways 

Mr.  Pope  made  a  few  remarks  about  Adonis 
which  were  mercifully  carried  away  by  the  wind 
and  sterilised  by  the  ocean. 

"If  you  rise  at  six  and  do  your  exercises,"  said 
the  doctor,  regarding  him  steadfastly,  "you  shall 
have  a  slice  of  lean  meat  with  your  lunch;  if  you 
do  them  well  you  shall  have  another  slice'  for 
dinner." 

Whether  it  was  the  promised  reward  or  mere 
strength  of  mind,  the  patient  quitted  his  bunk  next 
morning  at  six  o'clock,  and  in  bare  feet  and  purple 
pyjamas  followed  Maloney  to  the  deck. 

"A  gentle  walk  round  first,"  said  the  doctor; 
"the  wet  is  good  for  your  feet." 

They  took  a  dozen  turns  and  then,  at  his  com- 
mand, broke  into  a  double.  The  officer  on  the 
bridge  leaned  over  to  watch  them. 

"Now  for  the  exercises,"  said  the  doctor,  after 
four  rounds.     "Where's  that  rug?" 

He  spread  it  on  the  deck  behind  the  drawing- 
room  and,  lying  on  his  back  with  his  legs  close 
together,  raised  them  slowly  and  described  circles 
in  the  air.  Pope,  still  panting  from  his  exertions, 
stood  by  watching  coldly. 

"Now  you  try,"  said  Maloney,  springing  up. 
"Flat  on  your  back  and  your  legs  extended  to 
begin  with." 

186 


AlFRED  SANTEU 

The  Castaways 

"I've  got  a  touch  of  lumbago  this  morning," 
growled  the  patient. 

"It's  a  cure  for  lumbago,"  was  the  reply. 
"Down  you   go." 

Mr.  Pope  got  down  and,  the  doctor  having 
pressed  his  shoulders  to  the  rug  and  walked  all 
round,  peering  at  him  from  different  angles,  com- 
menced his  instructions. 

"At  the  word  'One,'  "  he  said  slowly,  "raise  both 
feet  from  the  deck.  O-one !  There's  no  need  for 
you  to  raise  your  head  to  look  at  them.  Nobody 
wants  to  steal  them.  Now,  begin  again:  'O-one!' 
There's  nothing  to  giggle  at!" 

"I'm  not  giggling,"  said  Pope  indignantly. 

"You  were  making  some  fizzy  noise,"  said  his 
instructor.  "Keep  your  mouth  shut  and  breathe 
through  your  nose.     Now." 

Mr.  Pope  had  completed  three  circles,  and  was 
half-way  through  the  fourth,  when  the  sound  of 
a  faint  agonised  moan  brought  his  feet  down  and 
his  head  round  with  great  swiftness.  The  form  of 
Miss  Blake  disappeared  around  the  corner  of  the 
drawing-room  as  though  withdrawn  by  some  power- 
ful but  invisible  agency.  Stifled  sounds  issued  from 
within. 

"Don't  take  any  notice  of  them,"  counselled  the 
187 


nr 

Jl 


he  Castaways 


doctor,  as  Pope,  very  red  of  face,  scrambled  to 
his  feei 

"It  was  the  pup-pup-pup-purple  pies  that  upset 
me,"  wailed  the  voice  of  Miss  Blake.  "Didn't  he — 
look — a  dream !  And  his  little  pink  to-to-toes  wav- 
ing in  the  air!     Oh!     Oh!!     Oh!!!" 

Judging  by  the  inflection  of' the  voices  within, 
the  sufferer  was  getting  but  scant  sympathy.  Ma- 
loney  put  his  head  in  at  the  door  and  saw  Knight 
and  Peplow,  with  Miss  Seacombe,  gazing  disdain- 
fully at  Miss  Blake,  whose  face  was  buried  in  a 
sofa  cushion. 

"And  what's  the  meaning  of  it  all?"  demanded 
the  doctor.     "And  why  are  you  all  up  at  this  time?" 

"Well,  if  you  come  to  that,  why  are  you  up?" 
retorted  Knight. 

"Duty,"  said  the  other.  "I'm  looking  after  my 
patient's  interests.  He  has  now  retreated  to  his 
cabin;  and  the  exercises  only  just  begun!" 

uWell,  let  him  do  'em  in  his  cabin  in  future," 
said  Knight.  "We  don't  want  purple  acrobats  first 
thing  in  the  morning.     It's  a  disturbing  influence." 

Maloney  shook  his  head.  "He's  going  to  do 
'em  on  deck  in  the  fresh  air,"  he  said  firmly. 
"You'll  have  to  get  up  later." 

"We  were  here  first,"  said  Knight. 
188 


The  Castaways 

"Early  Rising  Brigade,"  explained  Peplow,  nod- 
ding. 

"Been  established  for  weeks,"   added  Knight. 

Maloney  grinned.  "Why  didn't  you  tell  me?" 
he  inquired. 

"Because  the  number  is  limited  to  four,"  said 
Knight,  as  Miss  Seacombe,  with  a  slight  elevation 
of  her  head,  passed  out,  followed  by  Miss  Blake. 
"You  get  your  man  up  at  five  and  let  him  get  his 
contortions  over  before  we  appear,  there's  a  good 
chap." 

Maloney  shook  his  head.  "If  you'd  heard  him 
when  I  mentioned  six  o'clock  you  wouldn't  ask  it," 
he  replied. 

"Very  well,  we'll  keep  to  the  other  end  of  the 
deck,"  said  Knight  restlessly.  "What  is  more,  we 
will  stay  in  the  smoke-room." 

"I'll  put  it  to  him,"  said  the  doctor  doubtfully. 
"I  want  to  do  all  I  can  for  you  young  people, 
but  of  course  my  patients  stand  first.  Pope  is  an 
interesting  case — a  sort  of  overgrown  rose-bush  I'm 
going  to  prune  down." 

"I  expect  he  is  waiting  for  you — and  the  prun- 
ing knife,"  said  Knight.  "Don't  let  us  keep  you. 
Duty  first." 

"Four's  company,"  assented  Maloney,  with  a 
nod;  "five  is — good  company." 

189 


The  Castaways 

"I  wish  you'd  get  your  rose-bush  to  do  his  exer- 
cises after  we  are  all  in  bed,"  said  Knight,  button- 
holing him  as  he  turned  to  go.  "If  the  other  people 
get  to  hear  of  them  they'll  be  getting  up  early  too." 

"We  must  take  the  risk,"  said  the  other  blandly. 
"Good  thing  for  them  if  they  do,  but  I  don't  think 
they'd  make  a  practice  of  it.  Once  would  be 
enough." 

The  news,  as  Knight  had  foreseen,  soon  leaked 
out.  For  once  Miss  Mudge  found  the  boatswain's 
conversation  interesting,  his  description  of  Mr. 
Pope's  skipping  in  particular  being  so  well  received 
that  he  began  to  entertain  a  high  opinion  of  his 
powers  as  a  raconteur. 

"You  ought  to  see  'im;  you'd  burst,"  he  said 
tenderly. 

Miss  Mudge  received  the  suggestion  coldly. 

"Or  else  'ave  a  fit,"  urged  Mr.  Tarn,  eying 
her  hopefully. 

"It  wouldn't  amuse  me,"  said  the  girl  in  a  su- 
perior voice.  "And  I  hope  I'm  too  much  of  a 
lady  to  get  up  at  six  in  the  morning  to  look  at 
any  gentleman  that  ever  was  born,  especially  (she 
shivered  slightly)  when  he  is  not  dressed  to  receive 
visitors." 

"I  don't  see  no  'arm  in  it,"  said  the  disappointed 
boatswain.     "Now  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  argy- 

190 


The  Castaways 

ment,  it  was  you  instead  o'  Mr.  Pope,  why  every 
man  Jack  of  us  would " 

He  broke  off  suddenly  as  Miss  Mudge,  closing 
her  book  with  a  bang,  gathered  up  her  work  and 
stalked  off  with  her  head  in  the  air.  He  returned 
with  a  sigh  to  his  duty  of  finding  fault  with  men 
who  had  neglected  theirs. 

It  is  sad  to  relate  that  Lady  Penrose  displayed 
less  refinement  in  the  matter  than  her  maid.  In- 
deed, Miss  Mudge  had  no  sooner  informed  her, 
with  all  due  respect,  of  Mr.  Pope's  early  morn- 
ing exercises  than  she  was  formulating  plans  for 
witnessing  them. 

"Easiest  thing  in  the  world,"  said  Carstairs,  to 
whom  she  confided  her  desire.  "Get  up  at  ten  to 
six  to-morrow  morning,  and  lie  in  wait  for  him  in 
the  smoke-room  or  somewhere.  I'll  get  up  too  if 
I  may." 

"Do  you  think  he  would  mind?"  inquired  Lady 
Penrose,  with  somewhat  belated  consideration. 

"Why  should  he?"  said  Carstairs.  "Besides,  he 
won't  know.  We  shall  have  the  smoke-room  all 
to  ourselves  at  that  hour,  and  not  a  soul  will  be 
any  the  wiser." 

They  had  the  smoke-room  to  themselves  next 
morning  for  exactly  two  minutes,  at  the  end  of 
which  time  the   door   opened  and  admitted  Miss 

191 


The  Castaways 

Blake.  A  startled  "Oh!"  sufficiently  expressed  her 
opinion  of  the  situation.  Knight  and  Peplow,  who 
followed  with  Miss  Seacombe,  maintained  a  discreet 
silence. 

A  faint  shadow  flitted  across  the  face  of  Lady 
Penrose.  "Dear  me,"  she  said,  recovering  with 
a  little  laugh,  "you  are  up  early!" 

"Healthy,"  said  Knight  briefly. 

"How  interesting!"  murmured  Lady  Penrose. 
"Have  you  been  taking  this  prescription  for  long?" 

"Not  very,"  said  Knight  suavely.  "Not  longer 
than  you  and  Carstairs  will,  I  hope." 

"We  came  here  to  see  Mr.  Pope,"  said  Lady 
Penrose. 

Knight  bowed.  "We  came  on  the  same  errand 
— four  of  us,"  he  added  somewhat  pointedly. 
"Pope — who  is  a  sensitive  plant — usually  performs 
aft." 

In  the  somewhat  constrained  silence  that  followed 
an  odd  pattering  noise  was  heard  outside,  and,  be- 
fore anybody  could  close  the  door,  Pope,  who  was 
doing  a  sort  of  frog  exercise  with  bent  knees  and 
knuckles  on  the  deck,  passed  in  a  bound.  Maloney, 
who  was  following  up  behind,  put  his  head  in  at 
the  door  and  glared  at  them. 

"Is  it  a  mothers'  meeting  or  what?"  he  inquired 
indignantly.     "How  do  you  think  my  patient  is  to 

192 


The  Castaways 

preserve  his  equilibrium  when  he  is  exposed  to  this 
sort  of  thing?" 

"Perhaps  he  didn't  see  us,"  suggested  Peplow. 

"He  did,"  said  the  doctor  heatedly.  "He  has 
now  disappeared  below,  and  I  would  not  like  to 
repeat  the  language  he  is  using.  How  is  a  medical 
man  to  do  himself  justice  when  he  is  interfered 
with  like  this?" 

"Do  you  think  that  this  ship  is  reserved  for  you 
and  your  precious  patient?"  demanded  Miss  Sea- 
combe  with  some  heat. 

"That  we  are  to  stay  in  bed  until  you  tell  us 
to  get  up?"  added  Miss  Blake. 

"Perhaps  you'd  like  to  lock  us  in  our  cabins?" 
suggested  Mr.  Peplow. 

"Not  you,"  said  the  doctor  significantly.  "I 
should  like  to  give  you  the  same  treatment  that 
I'm  giving  Pope.     Do  you  a  lot  of  good." 

"Same  treatment  as  Pope?  What  for?"  de- 
manded the  startled  Mr.  Peplow. 

"Anybody'll  tell  you,"  said  the  doctor  darkly  as 
he  withdrew. 

"What  does  he  mean?"  inquired  Mr.  Peplow, 
looking  around.  "I'm  perfectly  healthy.  I  take 
all  the  exercise  I  can  get.  I've  been  up  at  six 
every  morning  for  the  last  six " 

"Six?"  prompted  Lady  Penrose  gently. 

193 


The  Castaways 

"Hours,"  continued  Mr.  Peplow,  a  trifle  con- 
fused by  the  ferocity  of  Mr.  Knight's  glance. 

"I'm  sure  you  have  done  all  you  can  do,"  said 
Lady  Penrose  in  a  sympathetic  voice.  "I  had  no 
idea  you  were  so  energetic.  You  make  me  thor- 
oughly ashamed  of  my  laziness.  I  must  try  and 
follow  your  example." 

"If  it's  to  see  my  patient — my  late  patient — 
you  want  to  get  up  early,"  said  Maloney,  appear- 
ing again,  "you  can  give  up  the  idea." 

"Late  patient!"  repeated  Carstairs,  with  a  start. 

The  doctor  nodded.  "He  is  in  the  steward's 
pantry,"  he  said  gloomily.  "Markham  has  taken 
the  case  out  of  my  (lands,  and  is  treating  it  with 
slices  of  cold  ham." 


194 


s 


CHAPTER  XVI 

*  O  far  so  good,"  said  Lady  Penrose,  with  a 
half-sigh.  "It  really  seems  that  we  are 
going  to  sail  round  the  world  without 
meeting  a  single  adventure." 

"Do  you  want  one?"  inquired  Carstairs. 

"A  little  one,  perhaps,"  was  the  reply.  "Just  a 
little  thrill  of  some  sort;  something  a  little  out  of 
the  common  of  everyday  life.  A  shipwrecked  crew 
to  rescue,  or  something  of  that  sort.  Fancy  being 
out  in  a  little  boat  in  this  darkness  alone  with  the 
stars  and  the  water!" 

"Deprived  of  food  and  drink,  and  Pope's  ver- 
sion of  the  'Bay  of  Biscay,'  "  said  Carstairs,  as 
heroic  bellowings  and  the  tinkle  of  a  piano  sounded 
from  the  drawing-room. 

"He  is  quite  himself  again  now,"  said  Lady  Pen- 
rose. "He  says  that  he  dismissed  his  doctor  just 
in  time." 

"Awkward  if  he  has  to  call  him  in  again,"  said 
Carstairs,  with  a  smile.  "Maloney  warns  him  that 
purgatory  would  be  easy  compared  with  his  next 

195 


The  Castaways 

course  of  treatment.  I'm  afraid  he  has  an  idea 
that  some  of  us  are  too  self-indulgent.  Yesterday 
he  accused  Knight  of  being  too  soft,  and  they  had 
\  a  turn  with  the  gloves  before  breakfast  this  morn- 
ing to  settle  it." 

"I  heard  of  it,"  said  Lady  Penrose  dryly.  "Mr. 
Knight  does  most  useless  things  well." 

"Maloney  would  agree  with  you  about  the  box- 
ing, at  any  rate,"  replied  Carstairs.  "He  is  still 
sore  about  it,  but  what  hurt  him  more  than  any- 
thing was  that,  after  giving  him  a  thorough  dust- 
ing, Knight  admitted  the  charge  of  softness  and 
asked  for  a  tonic." 

His  companion  gave  a  faint  laugh.  "It  might 
have  done  Mr.  Knight  a  little  good  to  be  de- 
feated," she  remarked. 

Carstairs  nodded.  "One  or  two  other  altruists 
took  the  same  view,"  he  said  slowly.  "They  brought 
up  one  of  the  firemen,  who  rather  fancies  himself 
in  that  line,  and  the  result  is  that  they  are  a  man 
short  in  the  stoke-hole  to-day.  The  skipper  com- 
plained to  me  about  it.  He  seemed  most  annoyed 
because  he  hadn't  been  called  up  to  see  it.  'Stop 
it,'  he  said,  but  I  knew  what  he  meant." 

"You  men  are  all  alike,"  said  Lady  Penrose, 
shrugging  her  shoulders.     "It  is  horrible." 

"Shocking,"  said  Carstairs;  "but  I  agree  with 
196 


The  Castaways 

you  that  it  might  do  Knight  good  to  meet  his  master 
at  the  game.     Whom  could  we  find?" 

Lady  Penrose  leaned  back,  considering.  "Cap- 
tain Tollhurst,"  she  suggested  at  last. 

"Tollhurst!"  exclaimed  Carstairs,  with  surprise. 
"Do  you  really  think  he  could  stand  up  to  Knight?" 

"No,"  was  the  reply. 

"Well,  then " 

"Might  do  Captain  Tollhurst  good,"  said  Lady 
Penrose,  maintaining  her  gravity  by  an  effort. 

Carstairs  eyes  twinkled  safely  in  the  darkness. 
"You  want  to  do  good  to  so  many  people,"  he 
murmured.  "The  saintly  side  of  your  character  is 
uppermost  to-night." 

"How  dull  for  you !"  said  Lady  Penrose.  "I'm 
so  sorry.  Is  Mr.  Pope  really  going  to  sing  'Tom 
Bowling'?"  she  added,  as  the  opening  chorus  of 
the  piano  and  a  modest  cough  were  heard. 

"I'm  afraid  so,"  said  Carstairs. 

They  sat  almost  in  silence  until  the  song  was 
finished,  two  remarks  of  his  being  first  suspended 
and  then  entirely  lost  owing  to  the  interest  occa- 
sioned by  the  efforts  of  the  vocalist  to  reach  his 
top-note. 

"Pity  he  never  married,"  said  Lady  Penrose  as 
the  song  ended  amid  general  applause;  "a  good 
wife  would  burn  the  piano  if  she  couldn't  stop  him 

197 


The  Castaways 

any  other  way.     I  believe  men  remain  single   to 
avoid  criticism." 

"There  are  other  reasons,"  said  Carstairs  mus- 
ingly. "You  haven't  considered  man's  shyness  and 
his  general  sense  of  unworthiness.  If  it's  a  genuine 
case  he  usually  puts  his  idol  on  a  pedestal;  she 
can't  climb  down  for  fear  of  making  a  false  step, 
and  he  is  afraid  to  reach  up  to  help  her." 

"But  if  they  do  happen  to  marry,"  inquired  Lady 
Penrose,  "what  becomes  of  the  pedestal?" 

"They  put  the  first-born  on  it,"  replied  Carstairs. 
"He  generally  wears  it  out." 

"You  must  have  devoted  a  lot  of  time  to  the 
subject,"  remarked  Lady  Penrose.  "I  believe  you 
are  the  sort  of  man  that  would  build  an  Eiffel 
Tower  for  the  lady.  You  would  end  by  making 
her  giddy." 

"How  easy  it  is  to  be  misunderstood,"  sighed 
Carstairs.  "As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  methods  of 
certain  savage  races  I  have  read  about  appeal  to 
me  much  more  strongly.  They  give  the  adored  one 
a  tap  over  the  head  with  a  club  and  the  thing  is 
done." 

"Other  men,  other  manners,"  said  Lady  Penrose, 
"but  it  comes  to  much  the  same  thing  in  the  end. 
I  have  no  doubt  that  the  maidens  of  the  tribe  make 

198 


The  Castaways 

the  clubs.  You  ought  to  go  out  there,  Mr.  Car- 
stairs.     I  am  sure  the  output  would  go  up." 

Carstairs  hesitated.  "If  you  think  that,"  he 
said  at  last,  "I  will  remain  here." 

A  dark  figure  stepped  out  of  the  lighted  door- 
way and  came  towards  them. 

"Coming  out  of  the  light,  I  can  hardly  see  where 
I  am,"  said  Tollhurst,  dropping  into  a  chair  next 
to  Lady  Penrose.     "What  a  peaceful  night!" 

"It  doesn't  suit  Lady  Penrose,"  said  Carstairs; 
"she  has  been  sighing  for  adventure." 

The  captain  laughed  gently.  "Better  without 
them,"  he  returned.  "What  could  be  better  than 
this?  And,  after  all,  things  are  always  possible  at 
sea.  There  is  always  a  chance  of  running  into  a 
submerged  wreck.  I  have  had  that  experience  once, 
and  I  can  assure  you  I  don't  want  it  again.  Or 
fire;  think  of  a  fire  at  sea,  and  putting  off  in  small 
boats  hundreds  of  miles  from  the  nearest  landl" 

"Have  you  had  that  experience,  too?"  inquired 
Lady  Penrose. 

The  captain  wrestled  fiercely  with  the  temptation. 
"No,"  he  said  at  last;  and,  in  view  of  his  ques- 
tioner's comments,  felt  sure  that  he  had  chosen  the 
better  part. 

"I  had  an  alarm  of  fire  once,"  he  said,  break- 
ing a  somewhat  prolonged  silence.     "Ten  years  ago 

199 


The  Castaways 

in  an  old  barque  bound  for  Archangel.  Nasty  while 
it  lasted,  but  we  got  it  under  in  three  or  four  hours." 

"Interesting  life,"  murmured  Lady  Penrose. 
"You  ought  to  write  a  book,   Captain  Tollhurst." 

The  captain  laughed  his  gentle  laugh  again.  "No 
good,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head.  "I  couldn't  write 
a  line.  Fellows  who  write  the  best  books  are  the 
fellows  who  have  never  seen  anything." 

"I  think  you  could  write  a  splendid  book,"  de- 
clared Lady  Penrose  with  warmth. 

"Awfully  good  of  you,"  said  the  unconscious 
captain.  "Wish  I  could.  Should  ask  permission 
to  dedicate  it  to  you." 

Lady  Penrose  murmured  her  acknowledgments. 

"Happenings  in  books  are  well  enough,"  said 
Carstairs;  "that  is  where  I  prefer  to  enjoy  mine." 

"Every  man  to  his  trade,"  said  the  captain  in- 
dulgently. "It  is  just  a  matter  of  use.  I  have 
been  knocking  about  since  my  boyhood.  Soon 
after  I  left  the  Army  I  was  big-game  hunting  in 
Africa,  and  I  didn't  speak  to  a  white  man  for 
nine  months." 

"Poor  things!"  said  Lady  Penrose.  "I  mean 
the  animals  you  killed  in  that  time,"  she  added,  as 
the  captain  moved  uneasily.  "You  must  have  ac- 
counted for  a  lot." 

"I  didn't  miss  many,"  said  the  captain,  lighting 
200 


The  Castaways 

a  cigarette.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and,  be- 
coming reminiscent,  related  a  few  of  the  more 
exciting  episodes.  Lightly  and  easily  he  skipped 
from  peril  to  peril,  until  at  last  Lady  Penrose,  with 
a  sharp  intake  of  breath  that  might  have  been  mis- 
understood for  sympathy,  rose  suddenly  and  bade 
her  companions  "good  night." 

"I'm  afraid  perhaps  I  was  a  little  bit  too 
realistic,"  said  Tollhurst,  as  she  disappeared  below. 
"Well,  I'm  off  too.     Good  night." 

Carstairs  nodded  and,  lighting  another  cigarette, 
sat  for  some  time  in  thought.  His  guests  came  out 
of  the  drawing-room  in  twos  and  threes  and,  after 
loitering  in  little  groups,  dispersed  to  bed.  Knight 
and  Peplow,  after  leaning  against  the  side  opposite 
him  for  some  time,  crossed  over  and  took  the  two 
empty  chairs. 

"Nothing  on  his  conscience,"  remarked  Knight 
presently;  "quite  unperturbed." 

"Quite,"  said  Peplow  dutifully. 

"He  seems  to  be  asleep,"  said  Knight,  after  wait- 
ing for  some  time.  "He  inveigles  us  on  to  this 
beastly  little  ship  of  his  and  then  shuts  his  eyes 
to  things." 

"Perhaps  he  is  asleep,"  remarked  the  useful  Mr. 
Peplow. 

"Sleepy,"  said  Carstairs,  with  a  yawn;  "but  don't 
201 


The  Castaways 

mind  me,  just  go  on  with  your  little  chat.  I  am 
going  to  turn  in  soon." 

"Not  till  we've  done  with  you,"  said  Knight. 
"We  consider  that  we  were  lured  on  to  this  pluto- 
cratic craft  under  false  pretences,  and  we  want  to 
know  what  you  are  going  to  do  about  it.  When 
we  accepted  your  invitation  we  thought  that  there 
would  be  a  certain  amount  of  'sitting-out,'  so  to 
speak,  and  instead  of  that  it's  like  living  in  the 
midst  of  a  public  meeting." 

"We  could  leave  you  behind  at  Melbourne," 
suggested  Carstairs. 

"You've  got  hold  of  the  wrong  end  of  the  stick," 
said  Knight;  "we  don't  want  to  be  left  behind,  but 
if  you  could  arrange  to  leave  some  of  the  others 
it  would  be  just  the  thing.  It  only  wants  a  little 
thinking  out." 

"I'll  go  and  think  it  over  now,"  said  Carstairs, 
rising.     "I  can  think  better  in  bed.     Good  night." 

"We  haven't  finished  yet,"  said  Kniglit.  "Freddie 
has  got  a  lot  to  say.  Go  on,  Freddie;  tell  him 
how  we  agreed  to  do  all  in  our  power  to  help 
him." 

"Help  me  I"  repeated  Carstairs,  with  a  slight 
laugh.     "What  are  you  talking  about?" 

"You  know,"  said  Knight  significantly.  "He 
knows,  doesn't  he,  Freddie?" 

202 


The  Castaways 

Mr.  Peplow  swallowed.  "Yes,"  he  replied. 
"So— so " 

"Yes?"  said  Carstairs,  after  a  pause. 

"So  does  everybody  else,"  finished  Mr.  Peplow, 
with  an  effort. 

"And  you  have  our  full  consent  and  blessing," 
added  Knight.  "In  fact,  we  think  it  might  be  a 
good  thing  for  both  of  us;  anyway,  things  couldn't 
be  much  worse." 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea  what  you  are  talking 
about,"  said  Carstairs  somewhat  stiffly. 

"That's  all  right,  then,"  said  Knight;  "but,  if  you 
really  want  to  know,  ask  Miss  Flack,  or  Mrs.  Jar- 
dine,  or  Talwyn,  or Not  now,"  he  added,  as 

Carstairs  walked  away;  "they're  all  in  bed." 

"Stuffy!"  said  Peplow  sagely  as  Carstairs  van- 
ished. 

"So  am  I,"  said  his  friend.  "Come  along.  Let's 
have  a  walk  up  and  down;  for  once  we  are  alone. 
Why!    Halloa,  Biggs!" 

"Good  evening,  sir,"  said  Biggs.  "I  just  come 
for'ard  for  a  blow  before  turning  in.", 

"And  I  am  just  going  to  have  a  whiskey  and  soda 
before  doing  the  same.  It's  you  that  ought  to  have 
it,  really — after  that  hot  engine-room." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  chauffeur.  "If  there 
203 


The  Castaways 

isn't  enough  to  go  round,  I  shall  watch  you  drink 
it  with  pleasure." 

They  entered  the  smoke-room  just  as  Markham 
was  having  a  final  look  round.  At  a  word  from 
Knight  he  busied  himself  with  the  whiskey  and  a 
siphon. 

"Turned  a  bit  pale,  hasn't  it?"  murmured  Mr. 
Biggs,  as  he  took  the  glass  from  his  old  enemy; 
"but  perhaps  it  is  the  motion  of  the  ship." 

"Colour  it  yourself,"  said  Knight.  "I  suppose  it's 
in  order  to  give  you  a  drink,"  he  added,  as  the 
chauffeur  complied.  "I  mean,  the  skipper  wouldn't 
object." 

"Just  what  I  was  wondering,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Biggs 
cheerfully.  "I  expect  he  would;  it  seems  to  me  it's 
what  skippers  are  for — to  object  to  things.  But 
even  an  admiral  couldn't  help  himself  now.  It's 
gone." 

He  said  good  night,  and  with  a  wink  at  the  butler, 
which  elicited  only  an  icy  stare  in  response,  went  off 
to  his  quarters. 

Mr.  Peplow's.  gloom,  never  of  a  very  lasting  na- 
ture, passed  with  the  night.  Any  lingering  trace  was 
dispelled  by  the  fresh  morning  air,  with  its  appetising 
blend  of  grilled  bacon  and  coffee,  and  the  news  that 
Mrs.  Jardine  was  confined  to  her  cabin  with  one  of 
her  traditional  headaches — a  headache  that  had  been 

204 


The  Castaways 

in  the  family  for  generations,  and  was  rumoured  to 
have  been  a  source  of  considerable  trouble  to  the 
Plantagenets. 

He  sat  in  the  smoke-room  after  lunch  with  a  cigar- 
ette and  a  book,  until  the  former  expired  from  lack 
of  attention  and  the  latter  sustained  injuries  to  its 
back  from  a  sudden  fall.  He  opened  his  eyes  at 
last  to  see  the  laughing  face  of  Miss  Blake  framed 
in  the  doorway. 

"I  was  just  going  to  fetch  Miss  Flack,"  she  re- 
marked; "the  poor  thing  wants  gloves  badly.  She 
was  talking  about  it  yesterday." 

"I  wasn't  asleep,"  said  Mr.  Peplow.  "Where  is 
she?" 

"Playing  bridge,"  was  the  reply.  "Isabel  is  sit- 
ting with  aunt,  and,  as  nearly  everybody  else  is 
playing  cards,  I  thought  I'd  come  and  talk  to  you. 
Still,  if  you'd  rather  sleep " 

"Sleep!"  exclaimed  the  other,  in  a  deep  voice. 
"Have  you  realised  that  I've  not  had  a  word  alone 
with  you  for  weeks?" 

"Really?"  said  the  girl  carelessly.  "I  hadn't  no- 
ticed it." 

"When  it  isn't  Mrs.  Jardine,  it's  Miss  Flack," 
continued  Mr.  Peplow,  "and  when  they  snatch  a  few 
brief  moments  from  duty  Talwyn  mounts  guard." 

205 


The  Castaways 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  inquired  Miss 
Blake. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Mr.  Peplow.  "It's  no  good 
wasting  time  grousing.  Let  us  improve  the  shining 
hours." 

"How?" 

"Let  us  talk,"  said  Peplow  tenderly. 

"That  will  be  improving,"  said  the  girl. 

"That's  right,"  said  Peplow  gloomily,  "make  fun 
of  me.  When  you  smiled  so  nicely  at  me  just 
now " 

"I?"  said  Miss  Blake.  "Smiled?  I  was  laughing 
at  you.  You've  no  idea  how  funny  you  looked. 
Your  mouth  was  open,  and  you  were  snoring  like  a 
baby  with  the  snuffles." 

Mr.  Peplow  stiffened  in  his  chair.  "I'm  sorry  I 
woke  up  as  I  was  affording  you  so  much  amuse- 
ment," he  said  with  dignity. 

"So  am  I,"  said  Miss  Blake,  with  a  sudden  change 
of  manner.  "However,  I  won't  disturb  you,"  and 
she  went  off  with  her  head  at  an  angle. 

"She's  gone,"  murmured  the  amazed  Peplow. 
"She's  actually  gone.     Well!" 

He  went  outside  and,  finding  the  deck  deserted, 
threw  himself  into  a  lounge-chair  and  sat  scowling 
at  the  universe.  The  skipper,  passing  on  his  way 
to  the  chart-room,  pulled  up  and  smiled  affably. 

206 


The  Castaways 

"Couldn't  improve  on  the  weather,"  he  remarked, 
crumpling  his  fringe  of  grey  beard  in  his  fist. 

Mr.  Peplow  assented  without  enthusiasm. 

"Where  are  we  for  next?"  he  inquired. 

"Australian  ports,"  replied  Captain  Vobster, 
"New  Zealand;  call  in  at  some  of  the  South  Sea 
Islands,  and  then  home." 

Mr.  Peplow  sighed.  "The  islands  ought  to  be 
interesting,"  he  remarked.  "Pick  out  a  nice  little 
one,  cap'n,  with  nobody  else  on  it,  and  leave  me 
there.  I'm  going  to  turn  beach-comber.  I  retire 
from  the  world." 

"Very  nice  life  too,"  said  the  accommodating 
skipper,  "for  a  single  man;  married  ones  too,  some- 
times. I  knew  one  man  that  did  it.  Ran  away  from 
his  wife  to  punish  her,  and  after  twenty  years  of  it 
found  that  she  had  come  in  for  a  fortune  soon  after 
he  disappeared  and  married  again.  Time  he  got 
back  found  they'd  run  through  it  all.  Spoilt  his 
life  for  him,  poor  chap." 

Mr.  Peplow  said  "Oh  F'  and  turned  with  a  beam- 
ing and  forgiving  smile  to  Miss  Blake  as  she  came 
quietly  up  to  them. 

"Though  I've  known  some  people  take  to  the 
beach  and  get  tired  of  it  in  a  week,"  continued  the 
skipper. 

207 


The  Castaways 

Mr.  Peplow,  who  was  gazing  ardently  at  Miss 
Blake,  said  "Ah!" 

"Some  of  'em  get  melancholy,"  explained  the 
skipper. 

"Really,"  said  Miss  Blake,  as  she  took  a  chair 
next  to  Peplow. 

"Suicidal  almost." 

There  was  a  somewhat  constrained  silence  as  his 
audience,  with  their  hands  folded,  sat  staring  straight 
in  front  of  them. 

"It's  the  loneliness,"  said  the  skipper,  who  felt 
that  he  was  making  an  impression. 

"H'm!"  said  both. 

"A  man  has  time  to  sit  and  think." 

"H'm/" 

Captain  Vobster  paused.  There  was  a  feeling  in 
the  atmosphere  for  which  he  was  utterly  unable  to 
account,  and  he  stood  scratching  the  side  of  his  nose, 
possessed  with  a  horrible  idea  that  he  had  said  some- 
thing wrong.  He  glanced  at  them  in  perplexity, 
and  then,  suddenly  clapping  his  hand  over  his  mouth, 
went  off  with  his  eyes  dancing.  Slight  sounds  es- 
caped on  his  way  to  the  chart-room. 

"What  an  ill-bred  man!"  exclaimed  Miss  Blake, 
gazing  after  him. 

"Shocking,"  agreed  the  other. 
208 


The  Castaways 

"I — I  am  not  going  to  remain  here  to  be  laughed 
at,"  continued  the  girl.     "The  idea !" 

"He  wasn't  laughing  at  you,"  said  Peplow  hastily, 
"and  he  has  gone  now.  How  wonderfully  well  you 
are  looking!  What  was  old  Talwyn  talking  to  you 
about  at  lunch?" 

"Different  things,"  replied  the  girl.  "Don't  stare 
like  that;  it's  rude." 

"I'm  not  staring,"  said  Mr.  Peplow  ardently. 
"I'm  worshipping." 

"Well,  it's  not  nice,"  said  Miss  Blake,  who  had 
an  uneasy  feeling  that  she  had  come  back  too  easily. 
"It's  just  the  way  you  eyed  the  beef  at  lunch." 

"Eyed  the  beef?"  repeated  the  choking  Mr.  Pep- 
low.    "Do  you  think  I  care  what  I  eat?" 

"Of  course  you  do,"  said  Miss  Blake.  "Every- 
body notices  it.  You  have  got  an  excellent  appetite, 
and  I  am  only  talking  to  you  for  your  good.  If 
you  are  not  careful  you'll  get  quite  chubby." 

"That'll  do,"  said  Mr.  Peplow  thickly. 

"Do !"  exclaimed  the  incensed  Miss  Blake,  spring- 
ing to  her  feet.  "Do!  How  dare  you  talk  to  me 
like  that?    What  do  you  mean  by  it?" 

She  stood  looking  at  him  as  a  blackbird  might 
look  at  a  worm  that  had  tried  to  bite  it.  Then, 
with  an  indignant  exclamation,  she  went  off. 

Mr.  Peplow  made  no  effort  to  detain  her.  A 
209 


The  Castaways 

picture  of  indignant  misery,  he  sat  lumpishly  in  his 
chair,  scowling  darkly  at  the  deck. 

"Halloa !"  said  Carstairs,  coming  out  of  the  draw- 
ing-room.    "All  alone?" 

"I  like  being  alone,"  said  Mr.  Peplow,  in  a  deep 
voice. 

"Do  you,  though,"  said  Carstairs,  eying  him  with 
some  interest. 

"I  don't  wish  to  be  bothered  with  people,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Peplow.  "Let  them  go  their  way  and 
I'll  go  mine." 

"Poor — old — man!"  said  Carstairs,  smiling.  "I 
know  what's  the  matter  with  you." 

"Oh!"  said  Mr.  Peplow  offensively. 

Carstairs  nodded.     "Indigestion." 

"Eh !"  shouted  Peplow,  starting  up  as  though  he 
had  been  stung.  "Look  here,  Carstairs,  I  don't 
know  what  you  mean,  but  I've  had  enough  of  it. 
It's  a  vile  conspiracy.    It's — it's  an  infernal  plant." 

"What  on  earth's  the  matter?"  inquired  the  mar- 
velling Carstairs. 

"You — you've  been  talking  to  Miss  Blake,"  cried 
Peplow,  trembling  with  rage. 

"Well,  so  do  you  when  you  get  the  chance,"  said 
Carstairs,  in  a  soothing  voice.  "You  don't  want  to 
monopolise  the  poor  girl  entirely,  do  you?  Why 
shouldn't  I  speak  to  her?    And  I  talk  to  her  about 

210 


The  Castaways 

you,  my  boy.     Only  yesterday  I  was  saying  how  fat 

and  well  you " 

He  drew  back  suddenly  as  Mr.  Peplow,  with  an 
inarticulate  yell,  sprang  to  his  feet  and  stood  mouth- 
ing at  him.  For  some  time  the  young  man  stood 
struggling  in  vain  for  speech;  then  he  turned  with 
a  wild  gesture  and  stamped  his  way  below. 


2TI 


CHAPTER   XVII 

MISS  FLACK  in  a  moment  of  enthusiasm 
said  that  the  voyage  was  like  a  long  rail- 
way journey,  with  delightful  ports  instead 
of  stations.  She  averred  that  she  had  learnt  more 
geography  in  a  few  months  than  in  all  the  years 
spent  at  school;  and  only  a  week  after  leaving  Auck- 
land spoke  warmly  of  the  beautiful  Sydney  harbour 
at  Melbourne. 

In  Polynesia  she  forsook  geography  for  art,  the 
beauty  of  Tahiti  affecting  her  so  strongly  that  she 
sought  to  express  her  emotions  in  verse.  To  the 
sympathetic  Carstairs,  who  caught  her  in  the  act  of 
tearing  up  paper  and  dropping  the  pieces  overboard, 
she  confessed  that  the  subject  was  too  great  for  her, 
and  that  she  would  have  to  rely  upon  memory  and 
the  inspiration  of  the  moment  when  she  wished  to 
do  justice  to  it.  Her  enthusiasm  was  shared  by  the 
others,  and  the  Starlight  by  general  request  contin- 
ued to  cruise  among  the  islands.  Monarchs  and 
their  dusky  followers  were  received  on  board,  and 
Albert  thrilled  pleasantly  when  he  saw  the  firearms 
provided  for  their  entertainment  in  case  of  need. 

212 


The  Castaways 

"Not  much  chance  of  unpleasantness,"  explained 
Captain  Vobster  to  Pope,  "but,  if  there  is  any,  my 
idea  is  always  to  be  more  unpleasant  than  the  other 
fellow." 

"Very  good  plan,  too,"  said  Pope  approvingly. 

To  Albert's  secret  disappointment,  however,  the 
skipper's  precautions  proved  unnecessary.  Good- 
fellowship  and  fair  dealing  were  the  order  of  the 
day,  and  the  decks  of  the  yacht  were  almost  smoth- 
ered at  times  in  gifts.  Fruit,  vegetables,  chickens, 
and  pigs  were  supplied  in  abundance ;  the  night  Pope 
found  five  little  pigs,  decorated  with  pink  ribbons, 
tied  up  in  his  bed  being  a  memorable  one  in  the 
annals  of  the  voyage.  The  crowd  that  stood  out- 
side awaiting  events  fled  in  disorder  at  his  appear- 
ance, and  seeking  sanctuary  behind  locked  cabin 
doors  earnestly  assured  him  that  it  was  not  the 
animals'  fault,  and  that  nothing  was  further  from 
their  wishes  than  to  have  him  for  a  bed-fellow. 

"Pope  was  quite  crusty  about  it,"  said  Knight, 
recounting  the  affair  next  day  to  Miss  Seacombe. 
"He  hasn't  quite  got  over  it  yet." 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves,"  said 
the  girl. 

"We  are,"  said  Knight.  "But  never  mind  about 
old  Pope  and  his  troubles.     It  is  delightful  to  get 

213 


The  Castaways 

you  by  yourself  for  five  minutes.     Quite  like   old 
times." 

"I  like  company,"  said  Miss  Seacombe  thought- 
fully. 

"You've  got  what  you  like,  then,  on  board  this 
blessed  ship,"  retorted  Mr.  Knight,  with  some  heat. 

"I  suppose,"  said  the  girl  dreamily,  "I  suppose  if 
Mr.  Maloney  were  holding  my  hand  the  man  on 
the  bridge  would  think  he  was  feeling  my  pulse." 

"Con-found  the  man  on  the  bridge !"  said  Knight, 
dropping  her  hand  hastily.  "That's  what  I  complain 
about;  you  can  never  get  away  from  people  here. 
How  delightful  it  would  be  if  we  were  the  only 
two  on  board  1" 

"A  bit  dull,"  said  Miss  Seacombe. 

"Dull !"  exclaimed  Knight  sharply.     "Dull !" 

"For  you,"  said  the  girl  peaceably. 

"Where's  that  brigand  on  the  bridge  got  to?" 
inquired  Knight,  groping  for  her  hand. 

"Half  in  the  wheel-house,  but  he  will  be  out  again 
in  a  minute  or  two.  I  expect  he  only  went  in  there 
to  laugh.  It  must  seem  rather  funny  to  an  on- 
looker." 

"He  had  better  not  let  me  see  him  being  funny," 
growled  Knight. 

"Poor  thing,"  said  Miss  Seacombe  softly.  "Did- 
dums,  then !" 

214 


The  Castaways 

"And  do  try  and  be  serious,"  said  Knight  sternly. 
"What  about  running  off  and  getting  married? 
When  we  get  ashore,  I  mean,  of  course,"  he  added, 
as  the  girl  waved  towards  the  sea. 

"No  good,"  she  said  seriously;  "bread  and  cheese, 
and — and — the  usual  concomitants  are  all  very  well 
in  theory,  in  practice  you  would  find  the  diet  rather 
monotonous." 

Knight  sat  considering.  "I  believe  if  we  were 
once  married  and  she  couldn't  help  herself,  Lady 
Penrose  would  come  round,"  he  said  slowly.  "Won- 
der what  it  is  she  sees  in  me  to  object  to?" 

"It  is  strange,  isn't  it?"  said  the  girl.  "I  think, 
for  one  thing,  she  has  an  idea  that  you  are  a  slacker. 
She  has  got  no  patience  with  men  who  don't  work, 
you  know.  Then  I  don't  think  she  likes  your  man- 
ner much.     Some  people  don't." 

"What's  it  got  to  do  with  her?"  demanded  the 
indignant  Knight.     "You  like  it?" 

Miss  Seacombe  nodded.  "It's  your  only  charm," 
she  murmured. 

"Besides,  I'm  going  to  work,"  continued  Knight. 
"I've  been  thinking  a  lot  about  it  lately.  Difficulty 
is  to  find  something  suitable.  Can't  you  suggest 
something?  I  could  drop  it  as  soon  as  we  were 
married." 

He  glanced  hopefully  at  his  companion,  until  it 
215 


The  Castaways 

became  evident  that  he  had  given  her  a  problem 
which  was  in  no  immediate  danger  of  being  solved. 
After  a  long  silence  he  came  to  her  assistance. 

"What  about  the  stage?"  he  inquired. 

"Or  grand  opera?"  said  the  girl  demurely.  "You 
only  seem  to  think  of  the  agreeable  things,  you  know. 
You  want  to  be  paid  for  amusing  yourself.  As 
Isabel  says " 

"I  don't  want  to  know  what  Isabel  says,"  re- 
marked Knight  grimly.  "The  whole  fact  of  the 
matter  is,  she  has  got  too  much  time  on  her  hands. 
Why  doesn't  she  work,  if  she's  so  fond  of  it?  Or 
why  doesn't  she  meet  some  tame,  undiscriminating 
male  and  marry  him?  I'm  sure  that  either  Carstairs 
or  Tollhurst " 

"She  hates  Captain  Tollhurst,"  interrupted  Miss 
Seacombe.  "He  simply  haunts  her,  and  when  she 
is  rude  to  him  he  seems  to  regard  it  as  a  delicate 
little  attention  on  her  part.  He  is  so  pleased  with 
himself  that  nothing  upsets  him;  he  only  smiles.  It 
must  be  very  nice  to  be  like  that." 

"His  devotion  has  not  passed  unnoticed,"  said 
Knight  dryly.  "It  has  afforded  me  a  great  deal  of 
innocent  pleasure.  In  the  hope  that  Lady  Penrose 
will  imitate  my  delicacy  I  always  avoid  intruding 
upon  them  when  possible.  I  am  sure  she  has  no- 
ticed it." 

216 


The  Castaways 

"It's  the  sort  of  thing  you  would  do,"  said  the 
girl  restlessly,  "and  then  you  wonder  why  Isabel 
objects  to  you." 

Mr.  Knight  started,  and  admitting,  after  due 
consideration,  that  perhaps  his  behaviour  could  be 
improved,  set  himself  to  the  task  with  such  char- 
acteristic energy  that  his  friends  were  somewhat 
perturbed  in  consequence.  One  or  two  of  them 
attributed  the  change  to  failing  health,  others  (the 
majority)  suspected  mischief,  Pope  on  two  occasions 
getting  up  from  the  meal-table  to  make  sure  that  his 
cabin  door  was  locked. 

A  series  of  violent  squalls  and  rainstorms  helped 
to  relieve  the  monotony  of  life  at  sea,  and  a  fresh 
interest  was  imparted  by  the  knowledge  that  Cap- 
tain Vobster  was  understood  to  be  making  for  an 
uninhabited  island. 

"Uninhabited  when  last  visited,"  he  said  guard- 
edly. 

Visions  of  a  picnic  on  a  scale  hitherto  undreamt 
of  took  possession  of  all  on  board.  The  sailmaker 
was  set  to  work  to  make  a  couple  of  tents;  and  the 
form  of  picnic  to  be  enjoyed  became  the  subject 
of  a  somewhat  heated  debate.  The  company  was 
almost  equally  divided  into  "Thermos  Flasks"  and 
"Robinson  Crusoes,"  the  former  voting  for  comfort 
and  the  latter — consisting  chiefly  of  the  younger 

217 


The  Castaways 

members — preferring  to  gather  their  sustenance  at 
first  hand  from  the  land  and  the  sea  and  sleep  in 
houses  of  their  own  erecting.  In  the  final  division 
it  had  to  be  pointed  out  to  Mr.  Peplow,  torn  between 
love  and  self-interest,  that  he  could  not  vote  on  both 
sides. 

"It  really  ought  to  be  a  delightful  experience," 
said  Lady  Penrose,  as  she  sat  one  morning  discussing 
the  subject  with  Carstairs.  "There  is  something  very 
delightful  in  the  idea  of  getting  back  to  Nature." 

Carstairs  coughed.  "With  the  resources  of  civil- 
isation at  hand,  yes,"  he  replied.  "Anyway,  I  ex- 
pect we  shall  all  be  glad  of  a  run  ashore.  I'm  afraid 
you  find  things  a  little  bit  dull  sometimes  on  board 
ship." 

His  companion  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  said 
slowly;  "but  a  little  more  excitement  perhaps  would 
not  come  amiss.  Nothing  seems  to  happen  at  sea; 
no  post,  no  newspapers,  no  scandal." 

"H'm !  We  might  have  managed  that,"  said  Car- 
stairs, in  tones  of  self-reproach.  "I'll  speak  to  Pope 
about  it.  I  believe  the  whole  fact  of  the  matter  is 
you  are  still  suffering  from  a  most  unfeminine  thirst 
for  adventure.  Suppose  we  go  up  to  the  Solomons; 
the  skipper  has  got  some  gruesome  stones  about 
tHem." 

"Adventure  without  risk,"  said  Lady  Penrose 
218 


The  Castaways 

firmly.  "I  have  got  no  use  for  the  other  kind.  The 
sea-stories  I  used  to  read  in  my  youth  were  full  of 
incident;  in  real  life  nothing  seems  to  happen.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't  really  want  an  adventure 
for  myself;  I  want  one  for  Captain  Tollhurst." 

"Altruist,"  murmured  Carstairs. 

"Anything  but  that,"  said  Lady  Penrose;  "but  if 
I  have  to  listen  to  any  more  of  his  deeds  of  derring- 
do  I  shall  address  the  crew,  storm  the  saloon,  and 
put  him  in  irons." 

"Mutiny!"  said  Carstairs,  with  a  smile. 

"Call  it  what  you  like,"  was  the  reply,  "but  it 
does  seem  hard  that  with  a  hero  like  that  on  board 
fhere  should  be  no  opportunity  for  a  display  of  his 
powers.     It  isn't  fair  to  him,  you  know." 

Carstairs  smiled  again,  and  Lady  Penrose,  with 
a  side  glance  at  him,  clasped  her  hands  and  sat  think- 
ing. She  took  another  glance  at  him  and  their  eyes 
met.  Hers  were  soft  and  seemed  unusually  large. 
He  observed  them  with  interest. 

"I  was  going  to  ask  a  favour  of  you,"  she  said, 
at  last,  with  a  little  laugh,  "but  you  have  been  so 
kind  that  I  won't.     It's  presuming  on  good-nature." 

"Please,"  said  Carstairs  earnestly. 

His  companion  shook  her  head  with  an  imitation 
of  determination  that  he  mistook  for  the  real  thing. 
He  became  insistent. 

219 


The  Castaways 

"You  wouldn't  agree,"  she  said,  at  last,  after 
many  arguments. 

"Anything  that  is  possible,"  said  Carstairs  with 
emphasis. 

"It  is  such  a  great  favour,"  she  murmured,  "and 
I  ought  not  to  ask  it." 

"The  bigger  the  better,"  said  Carstairs  stoutly. 
"Now,  what  is  it?" 

Lady  Penrose  hesitated  and  looked  away.  "Bet- 
ter leave  it  alone,"  she  said,  turning  to  him  again, 
with  a  smile.     "Why  do  you  tempt  me?" 

"What  is  it?"  he  repeated. 

"Do  you  pass  your  word  to  grant  it?"  she  in- 
quired. 

"Certainly,  provided  it  is  nothing  impossible," 
said  Carstairs. 

"Oh,  how  good  you  are!"  she  said,  with  a  dis- 
turbing smile.  "Mind,  you  have  passed  your  word !" 

Carstairs,  vaguely  uneasy,  nodded.  "I  am  quite 
sure  that  Lady  Penrose  would  ask  nothing  that — 
that "  he  began. 

Lady  Penrose  laughed.  "Oh,  ho,  wouldn't  she  ?" 
she  retorted.  "That's  why  she  got  your  promise 
first.  You  know,  if  there's  one  thing  I  feel  certain 
of  about  you  it  is  that  you  would  never  in  any  cir- 
cumstances break  your  word.     I  am  sure  that  you 

220 


The  Castaways 

would   go   to   the   stake   first.      However   unpleas- 
ant  " 

"Suppose  we  stop  this  unwholesome  flattery  and 
get  to  business,"  interrupted  the  paragon. 

Lady  Penrose  nodded.  "Very  well,"  she  said 
briskly.  "I  want  the  head  of  Captain  Tollhurst  on 
a  charger." 

"Oh!"  said  Carstairs,  relieved.  "Oh,  is  that  all? 
What  a  fuss  to  make  about  a  little  thing  like  that! 
Thave  no  doubt  Tollhurst  will  be  delighted." 

"His  feelings  don't  matter.  Now,  you  have 
passed  your  word,  you  know;  there  is  no  escape 
for  you.     I  want — a  mutiny." 

"What,  as  well  as  Tollhurst's  head?"  inquired 
her  astonished  host. 

"Same  thing,"  said  Lady  Penrose.  "Captain 
Tollhurst  will  lose  his  head  when  it  happens  and 
the  thing  is  done.    He  will  never  hold  it  up  again." 

Carstairs  became  grave.  "You  are  not  serious," 
he  protested. 

"Never  more  so  in  my  life,"  said  Lady  Penrose 
cheerfully. 

"I  know  better,"  said  Carstairs  stoutly.  "You 
are  far  too  kind  and  good-natured  and  thoughtful 
for  others,  and " 

"Suppose  we  stop  this  unwholesome  flattery  and 
get  to  business,"  quoted  the  other,  smiling. 

221 


The  Castaways 

"And  you  mustn't  forget  that  Tollhurst  is  my 
guest,"  concluded  Carstairs  gravely. 

"And  you  mustn't  forget  that  you  promised  me," 
said  Lady  Penrose.  "Oh,  I  can  see  myself  clinging 
to  his  arm  and  begging  him  to  save  me.  Like  this, 
you  know !" 

She  clung  lightly  to  Carstairs'  arm  and  gazed  at 
him  appealingly. 

"Well,  he  would  if  you  looked  at  him  like  that," 
he  said,  with  a  laugh,  as  she  released  his  arm.  "He 
couldn't  help  himself.  And  suppose  he  takes  the 
thing  seriously  and  kills  somebody?  Besides,  think 
how  frightened  the  ladies  would  be.  It  is  impos- 
sible." 

"I  will  arrange  for  the  ladies,"  said  Lady  Penrose 
dryly. 

"It  isn't  fair  to  Tollhurst,"  said  Carstairs,  shaking 
his  head  obstinately.     "It  can't  be  done." 

"Why  not?  It  gives  him  the  opportunity  of  his 
life.  Think  what  a  magnificent  chance  it  gives  him 
of  displaying  his  courage.  You  don't  doubt  his 
valour,  do  you?" 

"Your  duplicity,"  said  Carstairs  mournfully,  "is 
shocking." 

"And  I'm  sure  the  sailors  would  enjoy  it.  Poor 
fellows;  their  lives  are  very  grey,  Mr.  Carstairs, 
very  grey." 

222 


The  Castaways 

"Nothing  to  what  mine  would  be,"  said  Carstairs. 
"You  won't  hold  me  to  my  promise,  Lady  Penrose?" 

"I  certainly  shall,"  she  answered.  "And  here 
comes  Captain  Vobster,"  she  added,  as  the  burly 
figure  of  the  skipper  came  down  from  the  bridge. 
"Oh,  captain!" 

"Ma'am,"  said  the  skipper,  pausing  and  raising 
his  cap. 

"Mr.  Carstairs  has  got  a  little  request  to  make. 
He  was  waiting  to  speak  to  you  about  it." 

"Yes,  sir?"  said  Vobster,  looking  from  one  to 
the  other. 

Carstairs  shifted  in  his  seat.  "Lady  Penrose  finds 
life  at  sea  rather  dull,  captain,"  he  said,  after  an 
awkward  pause,  "and  she  was  suggesting  a  little 
excitement  which  I  feel  sure  you  would  not  care 
to  permit." 

"Mr.  Carstairs,  that's  not  fair,"  said  Lady  Pen- 
rose sharply. 

Captain  Vobster  gazed  at  her  with  admiration. 
"Anything  that  /  can  do  to  oblige  Lady  Penrose, 
sir "  he  began. 

Lady  Penrose  returned  his  glance  of  admiration 
with  interest.  "Thank  you,  Captain  Vobster,"  she 
said  warmly.    "I  felt  sure  of  your  support." 

There  was  another  long  pause,  broken  at  last  by 
Carstairs.     "Lady  Penrose  was  wondering  whether 

223 


The  Castaways 

you  could  provide  a  little — er — er — amusement,"  he 
said  desperately. 

"Amusement!"  repeated  the  skipper,  and,  tilting 
his  cap,  scratched  his  head  as  an  aid  to  thought. 

"We  want  the  crew  to  amuse  us,  captain,"  ex- 
plained Lady  Penrose. 

The  skipper's  face  cleared  and  his  cap  settled 
back  into  its  place.  "Crew,"  he  said  meditatively. 
"Lemme  see.  There's  one  of  'em  plays  the  con- 
certina, I  know,  because  I've  stopped  him  at  it  half 
a  dozen  times.  And  there's  one  of  'em  can  walk 
on  his  hands  surprisingly  well.  Mr.  Pope  met  him 
doing  it  night  before  last,  and  it  gave  him  quite  a 
shock." 

Carstairs  sighed.  "Ah,  I'm  afraid  Lady  Penrose 
wouldn't  be  satisfied  with  simple,  healthy  amuse- 
ments of  that  kind;  she  wants  something  more  elab- 
orate.   This  conversation  is  quite  private,  captain?" 

"Certainly,  sir,"  said  that  mystified  mariner. 

"Well,  she — er — wants  you  to — to  arrange  a 
mutiny." 

"As  soon  as  possible,"  added  the  smiling  Lady 
Penrose,  "before  it  leaks  out.  To-morrow  would 
do." 

"A  mutiny !"  ejaculated  the  startled  Vobster.  "A 
mutiny!     What,  aboard  of  my  ship?" 

224 


The  Castaways 

"Only  an  imitation  one,  you  know,"  said  Carstairs. 
"Just  pretending." 

"A  little  play,  really,"  explained  Lady  Penrose 
hastily.  "Like  a  charade,  you  know,  or  Dumbo 
Crambo.  The  crew  seizing  the  passengers — only 
the  men,  of  course — and  holding  the  officers  down." 

"Hold "  repeated  the  skipper,  in  a  strangu- 
lated voice.  "Hold — holding  the — I  think  I  see  'em 
doing  it.     I  think  I  see  'em — I — I " 

His  face  turned  a  deep  purple  and  the  veins  in 
his  neck  swelled.  Past  speech,  he  took  a  turn  up 
and  down,  gobbling  helplessly.  Lady  Penrose  sat 
regarding  him  with  gentle  interest. 

"It  is  only  fun,  Captain  Vobster,"  she  said  sofdy; 
"and  the  men  would  enjoy  it  so.  They  don't  have 
much  amusement,  poor  things.  Their  lives  are  very 
grey." 

The  skipper  pulled  up  short  and  stood  eying  her. 
"And  they'd  be  black  and  blue,  too,  before  I'd  done 
with  them,  if  they  laid  hands  on  me,"  he  growled. 

"Then  you  refuse  to  give  your  consent,  captain?" 
said  Carstairs,  with  great  cheerfulness. 

"With  all  respect  to  you,  sir,  most  certainly," 
said  Vobster,  still  breathing  hard.  "I've  been  asked 
to  do  a  great  many  things  in  my  life,  but  I've  never 
been  asked  before  to  let  a  pack  of  idle,  good-for- 
nothing  fo'c'sle  sweepings  hold  me  down.    Never!" 

225 


The  Castaways 

"I'm  so  sorry,"  said  Carstairs,  turning  to  Lady 
Penrose,  with  an  air  of  gentle  regret,  "but  you  see 
how  it  is,  don't  you?  I  was  afraid  all  along  that 
Captain  Vobster  wouldn't.  You  see,  there  is  such 
a  strong  idea  of  discipline  rooted  in " 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Lady  Penrose  impatiently, 
"but  it's  a  great  disappointment  to  me.  Please  leave 
me  to  myself  for  a  minute  or  two ;  I  want  to  think." 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,"  said  Carstairs,  rising. 
"Come  along,  captain." 

"I  want  him,"  said  Lady  Penrose  calmly,  as  the 
relieved  skipper  turned  to  obey. 

Carstairs  started,  and  meeting  the  skipper's  eye 
gave  him  a  glance  full  of  warning;  Vobster,  in  re- 
turn, favoured  him  with  something  as  near  a  wink 
as  his  sense  of  discipline  would  allow. 

"Come  and  sit  here,"  said  Lady  Penrose,  with  a 
gracious  smile,  as  Carstairs  walked  off.  "I  want  to 
talk  to  you." 

Captain  Vobster  looked  around  helplessly,  and, 
accepting  the  inevitable,  planted  himself  in  the  chair. 
A  graven  image  would  have  looked  more  amenable 
to  reason.  Bolt  upright,  with  his  clenched  fists  on 
his  knees,  he  sat  ready  to  refuse  all  overtures. 

"Have  you  ever  set  your  heart  upon  having  any- 
thing?" she  inquired,  in  a  small,  timid  voice. 

"Very  often,"  was  the  reply. 
226 


The  Castaways 

"Ah,  you  can  sympathise  with  me,  then,"  re- 
marked Lady  Penrose  gently. 

"And,  generally  speaking,"  said  Captain  Vobster, 
nodding  to  himself  with  great  satisfaction,  "it  turned 
out  fortunate  for  me  that  I  didn't  get  it." 

"How  nice !"  she  murmured,  with  a  vindictive 
glance.  "But  when  you  were  engaged,  Captain  Vob- 
ster, and  your  fiancee  asked  you  for  anything " 

"She  didn't,"  interrupted  the  skipper  freshly. 

"No?" 

"No;  she  waited  until  we  were  married.  Then," 
continued  Captain  Vobster,  his  face  darkening,  "she 
made  up  for  it." 

"It  comes  to  the  same  thing,"  said  Lady  Penrose 
hopefully. 

"Yes — she  didn't  get  it,"  said  Vobster,  with  a 
chuckle. 

Lady  Penrose  laughed,  and  the  skipper,  relaxing, 
took  up  a  more  comfortable  position. 

"It  is  no  good  for  anybody  to  try  and  get  the 
better  of  you,  Captain  Vobster,"  she  said,  in  ad- 
miring accents.  "You  have  too  much  strength  of 
mind.  Do  you  know  that  in  manner  and  appearance 
you  remind  me  very  much  of  Lord  Merton?" 

The  astonished  Vobster  put  his  cap  straight.  "In- 
deed!" he  murmured. 

"The  likeness  is  extraordinary;  even  your  voices 
227 


The  Castaways 

are  alike.  When  we  get  back  I  must  introduce 
you ;  then  you  can  see  for  yourself.  You  will  come 
and  see  me,  won't  you  ?" 

"I  shall  be  delighted,"  was  the  reply. 

"And  then  I  shall  be  able  to  ask  Mrs.  Vobster 
about  those  things  she  didn't  get." 

The  skipper  shifted  a  little  in  his  seat.  "Oh, 
she'd  be  sure  to  tell  you  she  got  'em,"  he  said  un- 
easily. "You  see — she — she  has  got  a  sort  of  idea 
rooted  in  her  head  that  she  gets  her  own  way. 
'Course,  I  need  hardly  say " 

"Of  course,"  agreed  his  listener,  "anybody  could 
see  that." 

"It  pleases  her,  and  it  don't  hurt  me,  if  you 
understand." 

"Perfectly,"  said  Lady  Penrose.  "Now,  Captain 
Vobster,  as  a  special  favour  to  me  won't  you  oblige 
by  helping  us  in  our  little  play?  It  is  only  just 
private  theatricals,  and  we  can't  do  it  without  your 
consent.  On  board  ship  the  captain  is,  of  course, 
master.     His  word  is  law." 

The  unhappy  skipper  looked  about  him  helplessly. 
"I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  before,"  he  said 
awkwardly.     "Never." 

"Neither  have  I,"  said  the  temptress  frankly; 
"and,  of  course,  with  most  captains  I  shouldn't  have 
dreamt  of  such  a  thing.     With  an  ordinary  captain, 

228 


The  Castaways 

destitute  of  any  sense  of  humour,  it  would  be  im- 
possible. Really — to  tell  you  a  secret — it  was  ob- 
serving the  command  you  have  over  your  men  that 
made  me  think  of  it  first,  I  believe.  That  and  your 
likeness  to  Lord  Merton.  He  would  have  jumped 
at  it.     Shall  we  walk?" 

She  rose,  and,  placing  her  hand  on  the  skipper's 
arm,  paced  slowly  up  and  down.  Her  face  ex- 
pressed gentle  resignation. 

"You  see,  it's  the  sailormen,"  said  the  perturbed 
Vobster,  after  half  a  dozen  turns. 

Lady  Penrose  nodded.  "Of  course;  but  I  know 
you  well  enough  to  know  that  you  would  have  them 
thoroughly  in  hand  all  the  time." 

"And  it  would  look  so  bad  for  me,"  continued 
the  skipper.  "What  should  I  be  supposed  to  be 
doing  while  those  lazy  rascals  of  mine  were  mutiny- 
ing? 

"That  would  be  all  right,"  she  said  softly.  "I 
thought  of  you  first." 

Vobster  smiled.  "Thank  you,"  he  said  grate- 
fully, "but  I  don't  see " 

"Six  of  the  biggest  and  most  powerful  men  in 
the  ship  must  seize  you  suddenly  from  behind  and 
gag  and  bind  you." 

"Bind!"  spluttered  the  skipper,  dropping  her 
229 


The  Castaways 

arm  and  springing  back.  "Bind!  Gag!  Bind  and 
gag  me?     What,  sailormen?     Me!" 

"And  Mr.  Carstairs  and  Sir  Edward  Talwyn 
and  the  others,"  said  Lady  Penrose,  in  a  coaxing 
voice.  "You  won't  be  alone.  Sir  Edward  is  one 
of  the  oldest  baronets  in  the  kingdom,  and  he'll 
enjoy  it.  I  am  sure  of  it.  Now,  Captain  Vobster, 
you  will,  won't  you?" 

She  took  his  arm  again  without  any  assistance 
from  him  and  gazed  at  him  in  mute  appeal.  He 
cleared  his  throat. 

"I  don't  like  to  be  a  spoil-sport,"  he  began  firmly, 
"but  when " 

"And  you  won't,"  she  interrupted,  with  convic- 
tion. "I  am  sure  you  won't.  After  all,  it's  only 
acting.  Why,  I've  seen  a  prince  play  the  part  of 
a  servant-girl,  in  a  dirty  cap  and  apron  with  his 
nose  smutted.  Now,  I'm  not  suggesting  anything 
so  undignified  for  you." 

"Not  gagging?"  demanded  the  skipper  thickly. 

"Nothing  like  so  bad.  Of  course,  the  men  will 
only  pretend  to  bind  you,"  said  Lady  Penrose,  look- 
ing up  as  Pope  and  Carstairs  came  towards  them. 
"Oh,  Mr.  Carstairs,  Captain  Vobster,  in  the  noblest 
fashion,  has  consented." 

"Eh?"  said  Carstairs  and  Vobster,  in  tones  of 
blank  amazement. 

2  TO 


The  Castaways 

"He  is  a  born  actor,"  continued  Lady  Penrose. 
"He  saw  all  sorts  of  possibilities  in  the  part.  He 
is  going  to  be  bound  and  gagged.  Pretend  to  be, 
I  mean." 

"I — I "  began  the  indignant  skipper.     "I — 

I'm  afraid " 

"Now,  Captain  Vobster,"  said  Lady  Penrose, 
with  conviction.  "I  am  quite  sure  that  nothing 
could  make  you  afraid." 

"Bound  and  gagged?"  repeated  Pope,  open-eyed. 

"Why,  what's  he  done?" 

"H'sh!  Nothing,"  said  Lady  Penrose,  with  a 
radiant  smile  at  the  fermenting  Vobster.  "Nothing, 
except  to  refuse  to  say  'No'  to  a  lady?" 

"Well,  nobody  expected  him  to  do  that,"  6aid 
the  mystified  Pope. 

Captain  Vobster  looked  about  him  with  the  help- 
less gaze  of  a  trapped  animal.  "Very  well,"  he 
said  thickly.  "Very  well;  but  I  must  have  instruc- 
tions from  you  before  witnesses,  sir.  I  won't  do 
it  without.     And  I'll  have  'em  in  writing." 

"Better  do  it  now,"  said  the  triumphant  Lady 
Penrose  before  Carstairs  could  speak.  "Come 
along,  Mr.  Pope.     Now,  Mr.  Carstairs." 

She  walked  towards  the  drawing-room,  the  two 
gentlemen  following,  leaving  Captain  Vobster  a 
prey  to  gloom  alone  on  the  deck.    A  harmless  sea- 

231 


The  Castaways 

man  passing  to  his  work  found  himself  brought 
up  by  a  gaze  of  cold  and  concentrated  venom.  He 
faltered,  and  stood  still. 

"Well?"  inquired  the  skipper,  in  a  hurricane 
voice. 

"Yessir,"  said  the  man,  and,  backing  slowly, 
turned  and  fled. 

"Gagged!"  said  Vobster,  to  the  mainmast  in  a 
broken  voice.     "By  sailormen!" 


232 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

MR.  POPE,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind 
his  back  and  his  head  bowed  in  thought, 
paced  slowly  up  and  down  the  deck.  His 
face  was  grave  and  the  lines  on  his  brow  suggested 
worry.  Knight,  coming  out  from  the  smoke-room, 
eyed  him  with  concern. 

"Halloa!"  he  cried,  "what's  the  matter?  Seen 
a  blackbeetle  ?" 

Pope  gave  him  a  baleful  glance  over  the  top  of 
his  glasses.     "Run  away  and  play,"  he  said  shortly. 

"Right-o,"  said  the  other,  crouching.  "I'll  hop 
you  twice  round  the  ship  for  tuppence." 

"And  try  and  be  serious  for  once,"  said  the  older 
man,  reddening.     "I've  got  things  to  think  about." 

"What  things?" 

"Cabinet  secrets,"  said  Pope  loftily. 

"What  are  they?  Now,  it's  no  use  looking  at 
me  in  that  fashion;  you  ought  to  know  that  by  this 
time." 

"Well,  I  can't  tell  you,"  grunted  the  other,  look- 
ing around  carefully.     "Better  go  away;  if  Lady 

2.33 


The  Castaways 

Penrose  sees  us  she  may  think  I  am  talking  about 
things  I  oughtn't  to." 

Knight  nodded.  "You  go  to  your  cabin,"  he 
said,  in  the  low  tones  of  a  conspirator,  "and  I'll 
come  in  for  a  cigar." 

Pope  shook  his  head,  but  without  decision,  and 
after  a  turn  or  two  disappeared.  Knight  gave  him 
a  couple  of  minutes'  grace,  and  then  entered  his 
cabin. 

"Halloa!  Who'd  have  thought  of  seeing  you 
here?"  he  exclaimed. 

"Do  be  serious,"  said  Pope  testily.  "I've  a  good 
mind  to  tell  you,  because  I'm  afraid  things  might 
get  out  of  hand  if  I  don't.  They're  shoving  all 
the  responsibility  on  to  me." 

"They  generally  do,"  murmured  the  other,  eying 
him  carefully.  "I  don't  know  what  Carstairs  would 
do  without  you." 

"If  things  go  wrong,"  said  Pope,  biting  the  end 
off  a  cigar  and  placing  it  in  his  mouth  while  he 
fumbled  in  his  pocket  for  matches,  "they'll  blame 
mc.  Everybody  will;  Lady  Penrose  said  so.  Car- 
stairs  has  given  me  full  powers;  he  has  left  all  the 
details  to  me." 

Knight  made  a  sympathetic  noise  and  waited. 
To  pass  the  time  he  took  a  cigar,  and  let  it  out 

234 


The  Castaways 

two  minutes  later  in  his  interest  at  Pope's  revela- 
tions. 

"And  I'm  only  telling  you,"  concluded  the  latter, 
"because  I  thought  that  if  you  took  it  seriously 
things  might  go  a  bit  too  far.  It  would  be  a  serious 
thing  if  you  broke  anybody's  head." 

"It  would,"  said  Knight  grimly;  "and  more 
serious  still  if  they  broke  mine.  I'm  going  to  tell 
Maloney;  his  temper  is  not  exactly  lamb-like.  And 
what  about  the  ladies  ?     They'll  be  scared  to  death." 

"I  am  to  prepare  them,"  replied  Pope.  "I've 
got  to  do  everything,  it  seems  to  me.  Lady  Pen- 
rose doesn't  want  to  appear  in  it,  and  Carstairs 
says  he  washes  his  hands  of  it.  I've  had  no  end 
of  difficulty  in  trying  to  explain  to  the  bo'sun  what 
he  has  got  to  do.     He  is  to  be  the  ringleader." 

"They  couldn't  have  left  it  in  more  capable 
hands,"  said  Knight  warmly.  "They  have  avoided 
disaster  by  relying  on  your  common  sense.  And 
Vobster  has  got  written  instructions?" 

Pope  nodded,  and  Knight,  relighting  his  cigar, 
paused  to  pay  a  few  more  well-turned  compliments, 
and  withdrew.  In  the  solitude  of  his  own  cabin 
he  sat  for  some  time  considering  ways  and  means 
of  turning  the  information  he  had  received  to  his 
own  advantage.  He  had  an  idea  that  it  would  be 
an  odd  thing  if  he  could  not  fish  to  some  purpose 

235 


The  Castaways 

in  such  troubled  waters  as  a  mutiny,  and  Maloney, 
whose  cabin  he  invaded  after  dinner,  felt  disposed 
to  agree  with  him.  In  low  tones  they  discussed  the 
situation. 

"It's  a  bit  hard  on  Tollhurst,"  said  Knight  slowly. 

"We  might  give  him  the  tip,"  suggested  the 
doctor. 

Knight  shook  his  head.  "I've  got  a  better  plan," 
he  said,  "if  I  could  only  get  it  carried  out." 

He  bent  to  the  doctor's  ear,  and  whispered. 

"Eh?"  said  the  other,  starting  back.  "Nonsense. 
It's  impossible!" 

"We'll  see,"  said  Knight.  "With  your  assist- 
ance and " 

"You  can  count  me  out,"  interrupted  the  doctor 
coldly.  "I'm  not  very  particular,  but  Carstairs 
happens,  for  the  time  being,  to  be  my  employer." 

"It  would  be  doing  him  a  good  turn,"  said  Knight 
eagerly. 

"Also,  there  is  a  lady  in  the  case,"  continued 
the  other. 

"Of  course  there  is,"  retorted  Knight.  "I've 
just  been  telling  you.  It's  her  scheme,  and  there's 
no  reason  why  she  should  object  to  having  it  touched 
up  a  little  bit  here  and  there.  That's  all  I  propose 
to  do." 

The  doctor  laughed  and  stretched  himself. 
236 


The  Castaways 

"How  are  you  going  to  manage  it?"  he  inquired. 

"I'm  going  to  enlist  the  services  of  Biggs.  I've 
left  word  for  him  to  come  round  to  my  cabin  at 
ten  to-night.     You  can  come,  too,  if  you  like.     I'm 

disappointed    in    you I    thought    you'd    have 

jumped  at  the  idea.  Anyway,  I  know  you'll  keep 
quiet.     Pity  you  haven't  got  more  spirit." 

Maloney  shifted.  "That'll  do,"  he  said  curtly. 
"And  I  don't  think  Biggs'll  be  much  use  to  you." 

Knight  nodded.  "He'll  be  all  right,"  he  said 
confidently.  "He's  very  popular  with  the  crew 
owing  to  his  democratic  notions.  Moreover,  he 
is  at  the  present  moment  suffering  badly  from  un- 
requited affection.  Mudge  has  bestowed  her  hand 
and  heart  upon  Markham,  and  I  fancy  that  Biggs 
is  in  the  mood  at  present  for  any  mischief  that 
turns  up.     He  is  in  a  reckless  mood." 

The  doctor  rose.  "There'll  be  a  little  surgical 
work  for  me,  if  you  are  not  careful,"  he  remarked. 
"Mind,  I'm  not  going  to  assist;  I  shall  content  my- 
self with  holding  a  watching  brief." 

"I  knew  you  were  all  right,"  said  Knight,  with  a 
grin.  "Come  along  at  ten  to-night  and  see  me 
handle  Biggs." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  very  little  handling  was  re- 
quired. Mr.  Biggs  evinced  no  surprise  at  the 
recital,  and,  so  far  from  objecting  to  Knight's  im- 

237 


The  Castaways 

provements,  came  forward  with  some  really  good 
suggestions. 

"That'll  be  all  right,  sir,"  he  said,  delicately 
puffing  at  a  cigar  Knight  had  given  him.  "The 
bo'sun  has  already  told  the  crew  what  is  to  be 
done,  and  it'll  be  quite  easy  to  make  a  few  altera- 
tions. I  was  one  of  the  first  he  told,  him  wanting 
my  assistance.  I've  been  teaching  'em  how  to  howl 
this  afternoon,  down  in  the  fo'c'sle.  Surprising  how 
slow  they  are  at  learning.  They  seemed  to  think 
they  were  a  Sunday-school  choir  at  first." 

"Excellent,"  said  Knight.  "But  you'll  have  to 
be  careful  with  the  bo'sun.  Give  him  to  under- 
stand that  the  new  instructions  are  from  Mr.  Pope 
and  the  skipper  and  they  preferred  him  to  get  them 
in  a  roundabout  way.  Tell  him  that  it's  Carstairs' 
wish,  but  nobody  wants  to  appear  responsible  for 
it." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!"  said  Biggs,  with  a  confident  nod. 
"Tarn  won't  give  any  trouble.  He's  a  stiff  chap, 
but  he's  got  the  brain  of  a  five-year-old.  He'll  be- 
lieve anything  /  tell  him.  And  if  I  could  tell  the 
hands  that  there  was  a  fiver  for  them  if  things  go 
off  properly " 

"Of  course,"  said  Knight.  "And,  by  the  way, 
you  had  better  not  be  one  of  the  mutineers." 

"Course  not,  sir,"  replied  Biggs,  in  an  injured 
238 


The  Castaways 

yoice.  "I'm  one  of  the  afterguard.  I've  already 
arranged  with  the  chap  that's  to  knock  me  out. 
Showed  him  just  where  to  pretend  to  hit  me.  And 
told  him  to  remember  that  it  is  pretending,  too." 

He  helped  himself  to  a  whiskey  and  soda  by 
request  and  went  off. 

"I  thought  he  would  be  all  right,"  said  Knight, 
turning  to  the  silent  doctor.  "He  didn't  like  Lady 
Penrose  interfering.  She  gave  good  advice  to 
Mudge  about  Markham,  so  Mrs.  Ginnell  tells  me. 
Biggs  and  Tarn  are  as  thick  as  thieves  now,  and 
this  business'll  be  a  labour  of  love  to  'em." 

"I'll  get  a  few  dressings  ready,"  said  Maloney. 
"When  is  this  affair  supposed  to  start?" 

"When  we  get  to  the  island.  Vobster  expects 
to  make  it  to-morrow.  He  prefers  it  to  happen 
with  the  ship  laid  to.  Pope  says  he  is  like  a  par- 
ticularly nasty  bear  with  a  particularly  nasty  sore 
head.    Can't  get  anything  out  of  him  except  grunts." 

The  atoll,  represented  by  the  tops  of  a  little 
cluster  of  coco-nut  palms,  came  into  sight  an  hour 
after  lunch  next  day.  Other  scattered  palms  be- 
came visible  as  the  Starlight  drew  near,  and  a  little 
later  the  long,  narrow  strip  of  land  with  the  surf 
thundering  on  the  beach  drew  most  of  the  company 
into  the  bows.  They  drifted  back  in  ones  and  twos 
to  the  greater  comfort  to  be  found  aft  as  the  ship, 

239 


The  Castaways 

steaming  along  the  weather  side,  came  into  view 
of  the  lagoon. 

"How  lovely!"  said  Miss  Flack  to  Mrs.  Ginnell, 
as  the  skipper  shouted  orders  and  the  noise  of  the 
screw  suddenly  ceased.  "I  suppose  this  little  play 
the  crew  have  got  up  for  us  will  be  ready  soon?" 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Mrs.  Ginnell.  "I  am  longing 
to  get  ashore." 

"So  interesting  to  see  the  dear  sailors  trying  to 
act,"  murmured  Miss  Flack.  "I  thought  Mr.  Car- 
stairs  was  looking  rather  worried  this  morning; 
perhaps  it  will  cheer  him  up.  But  why  weren't  we 
allowed  to  tell  the  men?" 

Mrs.  Ginnell  shook  her  head.  "Don't  know, 
I'm  sure,"  she  replied,  with  a  puzzled  air.  "Mr. 
Pope  said  it  was  part  of  the  play." 

The  voice  of  Captain  Vobster  was  heard  again 
from  the  bridge  in  a  series  of  angry  barks. 

"The  captain  seems  rather  cross  about  some- 
thing," said  Lady  Penrose,  turning  to  Carstairs, 
with  a  smile.     "I  am  feeling  so  excited." 

"I  am  ashamed  of  myself,"  said  Carstairs 
gravely.  "It's  a  sorry  trick  for  a  man  to  play  on 
a  guest." 

"Guest?"  said  Lady  Penrose.  "I  don't  under- 
stand you." 

"Tollhurst,"  said  Carstairs,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

2A.O 


The  Castaways 

Lady  Penrose  laughed.  "Why  should  you  think 
so  particularly  of  Captain  Tollhurst?"  she  inquired. 
"It's  the  same  for  him  as  the  others.  Suppose 
that  Sir  Edward  or  Mr.  Knight  or  any  of  the 
others  behave  badly?" 

"By  Jove!"  said  the  other,  aghast.  "I  never 
thought  of  that.  I  may  make  several  enemies  in- 
stead of  one;  I  shall  not  have  a  friend  left.  You 
will  have  to  be  very  good  to  me." 

"I  will — if  your  fears  are  justified,"  she  said, 
with  a  smile. 

"Tiny  little  place,"  said  Tollhurst,  lounging  up 
and  gazing  at  the  island.  "However,  it'll  be  a 
change  after  the  ship." 

"I  hope  it  is  uninhabited,"  said  Lady  Penrose. 

"Plenty  of  us  to  look  after  you  if  it  is  not," 
returned  Tollhurst,  with  a  smile,  "but  Talwyn  and 
I  have  been  inspecting  it  with  our  glasses,  and  I 
don't  think  there  is  any  doubt.  Knight  has  been 
examining  it,  too.  He  seemed  quite  anxious  about 
it.  You're  not  looking  very  well,  Carstairs !  Feel 
all  right?" 

"Quite,"  replied  Carstairs,  who  had  been  ner- 
vously glancing  along  the  deck.  <rReady  for  any- 
thing," he  added  desperately  as  he  met  Lady  Pen- 
rose's gaze. 

He  looked  idly  at  Mr.  Biggs,  who  had  come  up 
241 


The  Castaways 

from  the  engine-room  and  was  standing  on  the  top 
of  the  ladder  drinking  in  big  draughts  of  fresh  air. 
With  a  final  gulp  Biggs  disappeared,  and  a  minute 
later  a  couple  of  firemen,  grasping  iron  bars  and 
grinning  sheepishly,  came  up  the  ladder  and  went 
forward.     A  seaman  passed. 

"What's  that  chap  doing  with  a  pistol?"  ex- 
claimed Tollhurst,  gazing  after  him. 

Carstairs  swallowed,  and  shook  his  head  as  a 
low  threatening  murmur  was  heard  forward.  It 
died  away  as  Captain  Vcbster  began  to  speak,  and 
then  broke  out  again  in  increased  volume. 

"What's  the  matter?"  inquired  Peplow,  com- 
ing up. 

"Seems  to  be  a  little  argument,"  replied  Toll- 
hurst. "Looks  like  trouble,"  he  added  as  an  ex- 
traordinary storm  of  hoots  and  groans  broke  out. 

"Get  back  to  your  work,"  bellowed  Vobster. 
"The  first  man  that  moves " 

A  couple  of  pistol-shots  rang  out,  and  his  voice 
was  drowned  in  a  prolonged  and  ferocious  roar. 
The  ladies,  partly  amused  and  partly  scared,  clus- 
tered round  Carstairs. 

"What  on  earth's  happening?"  shouted  Knight. 
"By  Jove !  they've  got  the  mate  down.  Well  done, 
Vobster!     Well  done!" 

242 


The  Castaways 

"He's  down,  too,"  said  Effie  Blake,  clasping  her 
hands.     "Oh!" 

The  burly  form  of  the  skipper  disappeared  in 
the  press.  Lady  Penrose  gave  a  faint  scream. 
"Captain  Tollhurst,  save  us!"  she  implored,  as  a 
body  of  seamen,  waving  pistols  and  clubs,  came 
surging  towards  them.  "Save  us!"  echoed  the 
Misses  Blake  and  Seacombe. 

"Extraordinary!"  murmured  Tollhurst. 

He  sprang  forward,  and  with  a  heavy  blow 
knocked  the  leading  man  off  his  feet,  and  snatch- 
ing a  pistol  from  the  hand  of  the  next  gave  him 
a  smart  rap  over  the  head  with  it.  The  next  mo- 
ment he  was  down  and  lost  to  view  in  a  squirming 
mass  of  legs  and  arms.  A  seaman,  extricating  him- 
self from  the  scrum,  paid  a  profane  but  heartfelt 
compliment  to  the  captain's  teeth. 

The  whole  thing  was  so  rapid  that  for  a  few 
moments  nobody  moved.  Then  Peplow,  moving 
forward,  fell  headlong  over  the  foot  of  the  watch- 
ful doctor.  Biggs,  dashing  up  from  the  engine- 
room,  received  a  blow  on  the  head  as  per  arrange- 
ment and  subsided;  Talwyn  was  held  back  by 
Knight. 

"No  use,"  said  the  latter,  in  a  hurried  whisper. 
"Keept  quiet  and  bide  your  time." 

He  caught  his  breath  as  Tarn,  having  finished 
243 


The  Castaways 

with  the  skipper,  came  rushing  aft.  The  boatswain 
was  transfigured.  His  eyes  were  blazing  and  his 
face  contorted.  A  faint  scream  from  Miss  Flack 
paid  tribute  to  his  appearance. 

"Now,  my  lads !"  he  bawled,  "smartly  with  it. 
Into  the  boat  with  him;  we  don't  want  no  owners 
aboard." 

Before  the  astounded  Carstairs  could  move  he 
was  seized  by  willing  hands  and  forced  to  the  side. 

"Here!  What  the  devil  are  you  doing?"  he 
gasped. 

"Shove  him  in  the  boat  and  put  him  ashore," 
roared  the  boatswain.  "Lively  with  it  now.  And 
you  can  put  this  lady  in  to  keep  him  company." 

"Stop,  you  fools!"  shouted  Carstairs,  struggling 
violently,  as  a  couple  of  hands  seized  Lady  Pen- 
rose and  bore  her  after  him. 

"How  dare  you?"  she  demanded  wrathfully  as 
they  moved  towards  the  boat.  Her  gaze  fell  on 
Captain  Vobster,  who,  with  a  dirty  cloth  over  his 
mouth  and  trussed  like  a  fowl,  was  sitting  with  his 
back  against  the  smoke-room.  "Captain  Vobster !" 
she  cried.  "Why  don't  you  stop  them?  Stop  them 
at  once!" 

"In  with  them,"  cried  Tarn,  levelling  a  pistol 
at  the  little  knot  of  amazed  passengers.  "If  any 
man  moves  I'll  shoot  him." 

244 


The  Castaways 

He  stood  until  the  couple  were  placed  in  the 
boat,  and  then,  placing  the  pistol  in  his  pocket, 
stepped  forward  and  seizing  Miss  Mudge  raised 
her  in  his  arms.  Miss  Mudge,  buffeting  his  face 
with  one  hand,  seized  a  handful  of  hair  with  the 
other. 

"Easy,  my  dear,"  cried  the  boatswain,  his  eyes 
watering.  'Ere,  not  quite  so  much  of  it.  Lor' 
lumme,  I  wish  I  was  coming  with  you !" 

He  relinquished  her  with  relief.  The  boat  was 
lowered  and  pulled  rapidly  towards  the  shore. 
Tarn,  wiping  his  brow,  stood  considering. 

"Take  the  others  below  while  I  make  up  my 
mind  what  to  do  with  them,"  he  said  at  last. 

He  walked  to  the  side  and  stood  for  some  time 
watching  the  receding  boat.  Then  he  turned,  and 
bending  down  with  his  hands  on  his  knees  gazed 
respectfully  at  the  protruding  eyes  and  purple 
cheeks  of  the  trussed  Vobster. 

"I  'ope  I  done  it  as  you  wished,  sir,"  he  said, 
with  an  uneasy  wriggle.  "No  bloodshed,  and  every- 
body 'appy  and  comfortable." 


245 


CHAPTER  XIX 

BREATHING  hard  after  a  struggle  which 
had  ended  in  his  landing  on  the  island  in 
a  very  uncomfortable  fashion,  Carstairs, 
with  a  face  of  blank  amazement,  stood  watching 
the  receding  boat  as  it  pulled  across  the  still  waters 
of  the  lagoon.  He  stood  until  it  had  passed  the 
reef,  and,  reduced  by  distance  to  a  mere  speck,  drew 
alongside  the  yacht.  He  turned  to  Lady  Penrose 
and  Miss  Mudge,  who  stood  behind. 

"I  don't  know "  he  began. 

"Look!"  exclaimed  the  girl  breathlessly. 

Carstairs  looked  seawards  again,  and,  hardly 
able  to  believe  his  eyes,  stood  motionless  as  the 
ship,  after  picking  up  her  boat,  swung  round  and 
steamed  away  from  the  island.  In  a  dazed  fashion 
he  turned  and  met  the  scornful  gaze  of  Lady  Pen- 
rose. 

"Did  you "  he  began. 

"I?"  said  Lady  Penrose,  with  a  gesture  of  im- 
potent wrath.     "I Oh,  this  is  too  much!" 

She  turned  and  walked  away,  waving  an  imperious 
hand  as  he  offered  to  follow.     Somewhat  crestfallen 

246 


The  Castaways 

he  came  back  and  stood  gazing  at  Miss  Mudge, 
v/ho,  having  made  a  comfortable  place  in  the  sand, 
was  sitting  in  it  indulging  in  the  luxury  of  a  good 
cry. 

"There,  there,"  he  said  uneasily,  "don't  cry." 

"Ca-can't  help  it,"  said  the  girl,  between  her  sobs. 
"I'm  frightened.  Have  we  got  to  stay  here  all 
night?" 

Carstairs  stooped  and  began  to  turn  over  a  pile 
of  stores  that  had  been  put  out  of  the  boat  with 
them.  "I  don't  know  what  the  arrangements  are 
exactly,"  he  said,  at  length,  "but  it  looks  like  it. 
Suppose  you  leave  off  crying  and  lend  me  a  hand 
with  this  tent." 

He  began  to  drag  the  canvas  higher  up  the 
beach,  and  Miss  Mudge,  after  an  aggressive  sniff 
or  two,  wiped  her  eyes  and  followed  with  the  pole. 
Twice  the  half-suffocated  Carstairs  had  to  extricate 
himself  from  folds  of  billowing  canvas,  but  the  tent 
was  pitched  at  last  and  the  stores  moved  into  it. 
The  generous  quantity  of  goods  provided  did  not 
lessen  his  uneasiness.  There  were  things  in  tins, 
things  in  bottles,  a  fair-sized  cask  of  water,  and 
half  a  bag  of  ship's  biscuit.  A  large  axe  and  other 
tools,  a  gun  and  a  revolver,  blankets,  and  crockery 
of  the  enamelled  order  completed  the  tale  of  their 
belongings. 

247 


The  Castaways 

"Well,  we  sha'n't  starve,"  he  said,  looking 
around. 

"We  sha'n't  sleep,"  said  Miss  Mudge,  eying  the 
blankets  dolefully.  "Not  even  a  pillow.  And  what 
are  we  to  sit  on?" 

Carstairs,  who  was  watching  the  distant  figure 
of  Lady  Penrose  proceeding  slowly  along  the  beach, 
made  no  reply.  He  turned  and  walked  in  the  same 
direction,  and,  pausing  irresolutely  after  a  few  steps, 
came  back  to  the  tent  again. 

He  filled  his  pipe  and  sat  for  a  long  time  smok- 
ing. The  ship  had  disappeared  and  there  was  noth- 
ing in  sight  seawards  but  the  still,  blue  waters  of 
the  lagoon  and  the  tumbling  seas  beyond  the  reef. 
A  glance  sideways  showed  him  Lady  Penrose  sitting 
down  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  and  also  looking 
out  over  the  water.  It  was  evident  that  she  found 
his  company  distasteful. 

"Better  make  some  tea,"  he  said,  rising  and  fetch- 
ing a  small  spirit-stove  from  the  tent.  "You  can 
tell  Lady  Penrose  that  I  have  gone  to  explore  the 
island  and  shall  not  be  back  for  some  time." 

He  went  off  in  the  opposite  direction,  and,  reach- 
ing the  end  of  the  atoll,  turned  and  proceeded  along 
the  weather  side.  The  wind  there  was  fresh  and 
strong  and  the  sea  thundered  at  his  feet  in  great 
white  breakers.    With  his  binoculars  he  scanned  the 

248 


The  Castaways 

horizon  in  vain  for  any  sign  of  the  missing  ship. 
Puzzled  and  perturbed,  he  continued  on  his  way 
until,  the  desolation  of  the  beach  proving  too  much 
for  him,  he  made  his  way  across  to  the  lagoon 
again. 

Lady  Penrose  and  Mudge  went  off  together  as 
he  approached  the  tent,  but,  all  things  considered, 
he  made  a  very  substantial  meal.  He  lit  his  pipe 
again  when  it  was  finished,  and  then,  feeling  him- 
self somewhat  in  the  way,  went  off  along  the  beach 
and,  making  himself  a  comfortable  seat  in  the  white 
coral  sand,  sat  down  to  think  things  over. 

He  came  back  to  find  the  tent  closed  for  the  night. 
A  blanket  which  had  been  thrown  outside  was  evi- 
dently intended  for  his  use,  and  somewhat  touched 
by  this  sign  of  consideration  for  his  welfare  he 
hollowed  out  a  bed  in  the  sand  and  tried  to  arrange 
himself  comfortably  before  the  short  twilight  should 
disappear. 

He  fell  asleep  after  a  long  period  of  wakefulness 
only  to  start  up  at  dawn  with  a  violent  attack  of 
cramp.  The  inhabitants  of  the  tent  awoke  two 
seconds  later,  and  the  inflection  of  their  whispers 
testified  to  their  annoyance.  Three  times  in  all  did 
Carstairs  hurriedly  forsake  his  couch  and  hop  up 
and  down  on  a  leg  that  was  trying  to  tie  itself 
into  knots;  and  three  times  did  the  murmuring  of 

249 


The  Castaways 

the  people  within  add  to  his  discomfort.  He  rose 
at  last  just  in  time  to  forestall  a  fourth  attack,  and, 
making  his  way  along  the  beach,  stripped  and  waded 
into  the  lagoon. 

Miss  Mudge  got  up  an  hour  later,  and  after  a 
cautious  glance  round  went  down  to  the  water  and 
returned  with  a  well-filled  bucket. 

"Has  Mr.  Carstairs  gone?"  inquired  Lady  Pen- 
rose from  the  interior  of  the  tent. 

The  answer  being  satisfactory,  she  came  out,  and 
after  a  soapless  wash  in  salt  water  sat  down  for 
Mudge  to  attend  to  her  hair. 

At  the  sound  of  a  not  very  distant  cough  she 
sprang  to  her  feet  and,  with  her  hair  flying,  dis- 
appeared hastily  inside  the  tent. 

"I  beg  pardon,"  said  Carstairs,  as  Mudge  stood 
regarding  him  with  a  hostile  stare.  "I'm  sorry  I 
disturbed  Lady  Penrose,  but  I  have  just  found  this 
little  comb  in  my  pocket.     She  may  be  glad  of  it." 

"Mudge !"  cried  an  imperious  voice  from  the  tent. 

The  girl  stooped  and  put  her  head  inside.  "My 
lady  doesn't  require  a  comb,  sir,"  she  said,  return- 
ing. 

"Oh,  all  right.  Sorry,"  said  Carstairs,  pitching 
it  in  front  of  her. 

"My  lady  doesn't  require  a  comb,  sir,"  repeated 
Mudge,  in  severe  accents. 

250 


The  Castaways 

"Just  so,"  said  Carstairs  mildly.  "Just  so;  but 
I  suppose  I  can  leave  it  in  my — er — sleeping  apart- 
ment if  I  wish  ?     I  shall  not  be  back  for  some  time." 

He  turned,  and,  keeping  the  fate  of  Lot's  wife 
well  in  mind,  disappeared  in  the  distance.  Lady 
Penrose,  after  watching  from  the  tent,  came  out 
and  sat  on  the  beach  again. 

"I  do  hope  there'll  be  no  savages,  my  lady," 
said  Miss  Mudge,  gazing  helplessly  at  her  mistress's 
hair.  "Every  time  I  woke  up  in  the  night  I  was 
thinking  of  them." 

"I  prefer  savages  to  some  civilised  people,"  said 
Lady  Penrose,  glancing  in  the  direction  Carstairs 
had  taken. 

"Yes,  my  lady,"  said  the  girl  dutifully,  "but  I'd 
like  to  see  that  Mr.  Tarn  again,  that  I  would — 
I  got  some  of  his  hair  when  he  caught  hold  of 
me. 

Lady  Penrose  sighed,  and  then,  as  the  girl  pro- 
ceeded to  use  her  fingers  as  a  comb,  uftered  a  sharp 
exclamation. 

"You  are  not  doing  Mr.  Tarn's  hair,"  she  said 
sharply.  "Oh!  You  are  hurting  me!  Don't  be 
so  clumsy!" 

"I'm  very  sorry,  my  lady,"  murmured  the  of- 
fender, "but  your  hair  is  so  thick.  And  I've  never 
seen  it  in  such  a  tangle  before." 

251 


The  Castaways 

"It's  never  had  such  a  pillow  before,"  was  the 
reply.     "O-oh!     Oh!" 

"It's  the  sand  in  it,  I  think,"  said  the  girl,  paus- 
ing.    "If  we'd  only  got  a  comb " 

"Yes,  but  we  have  not." 

"No,  we  have  not,"  said  Miss  Mudge,  with  a 
longing  glance  at  Carstairs'  comb.  She  tightened 
her  lips  and  attacked  her  task  once  more. 

"You  are  very  clumsy,"  said  the  victim,  wincing. 

"Yes,  my  lady,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  doleful  sniff. 
"It  isn't  my  fault.  I'll  do  hair  with  anybody,  if 
I've  only  got  the  things  to  do  it  with.  And  I'm 
afraid  your  hair  will  be  ruined  for  ever.  It  does 
seem  a  shame." 

Lady  Penrose  looked  grave.  "Has  Mr.  Car- 
stairs  gone  for  a  walk?"  she  inquired. 

"Yes,  my  lady." 

"A  long  walk?" 

"He  said  he  shouldn't  be  back  for  some  time," 
replied  the  girl. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  at  the  end  of  which 
Lady  Penrose  gave  a  slight  cough.  Miss  Mudge 
started,  and  stepping  backwards  in  an  unobtrusive 
fashion  picked  up  the  comb,  and,  still  using  the 
fingers  of  her  left  hand,  began  to  use  the  comb  with 
the  right.  After  a  few  seconds  she  abandoned  the 
use  of  fingers  altogether. 

252 


The  Castaways 

"You  see,  you  can  do  it  all  right  if  you  like," 
said  her  mistress. 

"Oh,   my  lor .     Yes,  my  lady,"   said  Miss 

Mudge  respectfully. 

She  finished  her  task  at  last,  and,  Lady  Penrose 
having  retired  to  the  tent  to  complete  her  toilet, 
busied  herself  with  preparations  for  breakfast. 

"Make  haste,"  said  a  voice  from  the  tent.  "I 
am  hungry." 

"There's  no  matches,"  said  the  girl.  "Mr.  Car- 
stairs  must  have  gone  off  with  them.  Shall  I  go 
and  ask  him  for  them?" 

Lady  Penrose  hesitated.  "No,"  she  said  at  last, 
"it  doesn't  matter.     We  can  drink  cold  water." 

Miss  Mudge  sighed,  and  with  lagging  footsteps 
went  to  the  barrel  and  filled  a  couple  of  mugs  with 
the  refreshing  beverage.  A  piece  of  stale  bread 
and  some  oil  that  had  once  been  butter  completed 
the  feast.  And  they  had  just  finished,  when  the 
offender  came  sauntering  up  and  with  a  cheerful 
smile  asked  for  a  cup  of  tea. 

"Certainly,"  said  Lady  Penrose,  as  she  got  up 
and  moved  towards  the  tent.  "You  are  our  host, 
I  believe.     We  have  just  finished." 

Carstairs  looked  down  at  the  remains  of  the  feast. 

"Good  gracious!"  he  exclaimed.  "Haven't  you 
had  any  tea?" 

253 


The  Castaways 

"No  matches,"  muttered  Miss  Mudge, 

"I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Carstairs,  going  on  his 
knees  and  lighting  the  stove.  "How  thoughtless  of 
me.     Fill  the  kettle,  please." 

The  girl  obeyed  with  alacrity. 

"And  fetch  a  tin  of  something  and  some  biscuits." 

He  waved  the  girl  away  when  the  kettle  boiled 
and  made  the  tea  himself,  and  despite  the  fact  that 
the  mug  he  sent  in  to  Lady  Penrose  was  returned 
untasted,  with  a  curt  message  to  the  effect  that  she 
had  had  her  breakfast,  partook  of  a  hearty  meal. 
Miss  Mudge,  without  prejudice,  accepted  three  mugs 
of  tea. 

He  sat  smoking  after  the  meal  and  reviewing  in 
all  its  bearings  a  situation  which  was  becoming  more 
and  more  difficult.  He  knocked  out  his  pipe  and 
raising  his  field-glasses  looked  long  and  earnestly  at 
the  horizon.  The  blue  surface  of  the  sea  was  un- 
broken, and  there  was  no  sound  except  the  noise 
of  the  surf  on  the  outer  beach.  He  turned,  with 
a  grave  face,  as  Lady  Penrose  emerged  from  the 
tent. 

"This  is  extraordinary,"  he  exclaimed. 

Lady  Penrose,  who  was  walking  on,  paused  for 
a  moment.  "I  am  glad  you  think  so,"  she  said 
over  her  shoulder. 

"Incomprehensible,"  murmured  Carstairs.  "How- 
254 


The  Castaways 

ever,  I  suppose  we  must  make  the  best  of  it.  I  hope 
you  slept  well?" 

"Thank  you;  yes." 

"I  was  afraid  I  might  have  disturbed  you.  I  am 
not  used  to  sleeping  in  the  open,  and  I  got  some- 
what cramped.     The  dew  was  very  heavy." 

Lady  Penrose  said  "Indeed!" 

"And  I  must  say,"  exclaimed  Carstairs,  with 
sudden  heat,  "that  the  part  is  unworthy  of  your 
powers." 

"Part,  sir?"  said  Lady  Penrose  sharply.    "Part?" 

Carstairs  nodded.  "Little  Miss  Muffitt,"  he  ex- 
plained; "and,  frankly,  I  don't  like  being  the  spider. 
The  part  doesn't  suit  me." 

"Lit-tle  Miss  Muffitt!"  repeated  Lady  Penrose, 
breathless  with  indignation. 

"That's  how  it  appears  to  me,"  said  Carstairs. 
"Exactly  like  the  old  nursery  rhyme.  Directly  I 
come,  you  disappear.  Won't  you  please  tell  me 
why  you  are  treating  me  like  this?" 

"Is  there  any  need  to  ask?"  she  inquired. 

"I  think  so,"  said  Carstairs  firmly.  "I  behave 
very  well  indeed;  remarkably  well,  I  might  say,  to 
keep  my  word  to  you,  and  this  is  all  the  thanks  I 
get." 

Lady  Penrose  stood  eying  him  in  perplexity. 
"When  I  made  that  foolish  suggestion  I  was  not 

255 


The  Castaways 

prepared  for  your — improvements,"  she  said  at  last. 

"Improvements,"  said  the  other.  "Mine?  Good 
heavens !  You  don't  think  that  /  arranged  this,  do 
you?"  . 

<fI  imagine  that  the  captain  looked  to  you  for 
orders,  Mr.  Carstairs." 

"Orders!"  repeated  Carstairs.  "Orders!  I — I 
told  him  to  do  just  what  you  suggested,  and  not 
a  word  more.  Not  a  word.  I  thought  that  the 
whole  thing  would  last  about  a  couple  of  minutes, 
and  I  thought — I  hoped — that  it  would  deceive  no- 
body. Why  should  I  do  such  a  thing?  Give  me 
a  reason." 

Lady  Penrose  gave  a  slight  toss  of  the  head. 
"I  am  not  here  to  be  catechised,"  she  remarked 
coldly. 

"But  it's  so  unfair,"  protested  Carstairs.  "What 
reason  could  there  possibly  be  for  my  behaving  in 
such  an  outrageous   fashion?     You   don't  think  I 

wanted  to  carry  off  Mudge,  do  you?     Or — or 

By  Jove!" 

He  stopped  suddenly  and  gasped.  Lady  Penrose 
looked  out  to  sea. 

"Can't  you  see  what  an  awkward  position  you 
have  placed  me  in?"  she  said  at  last. 

"Not  me,"  said  Carstairs  earnestly.  "I  assure 
you   that  I   know  nothing  whatever   about   it.     I 

256 


The  Castaways 

shouldn't  dare  do  such  a  thing.  My  respect  and — 
and  admiration — hopeless  admiration — for  you  are 
far  too  great." 

"Mr.  Carstairs !"  said  Lady  Penrose  reddening. 

"It's  true,"  he  said  stoutly. 

"I  hope  that  the  others  will  think  so,"  retorted 
Lady  Penrose,  clasping  her  hands.  "Think  of  Mrs. 
Jardine!" 

"And  Miss  Flack,  and  the  girls,"  said  Carstairs 
helpfully.  "Yes.  Still,  what  does  it  matter?  And 
I  will  be  quite  frank  with  you.     I  am  enjoying  this." 

"Enjoying  it?"  she  gasped.  "What  is  there  to 
enjoy  t 

"Sense  of  adventure,"  replied  Carstairs.  "And 
look  at  the  cool,  bright  green  of  those  palms  and 
the  colour  of  the  water.  It's  marvellous.  But, 
above  all  and  beyond  all,  I  am  enjoying  the  society." 

Lady  Penrose  made  a  very  creditable  attempt 
to  look  bewildered. 

"Mind,"  continued  the  other,  "I  am  quite  inno- 
cent in  this  affair;  I  had  no  more  idea  of  being 
bundled  into  a  boat  like  a  truss  of  hay  and  landed 
here  than  you  had,  but  the  society  of  Lady  Penrose 
compensates  for  everything." 

"Mr.  Carstairs!" 

"It's  true,  and  I  had  to  say  it.  I've  been  want- 
ing to  say  it  for  a  long  time." 

257 


The  Castaways 

"There's  no  need  to  say  it  to  Mudge,"  retorted 
Lady  Penrose,  glancing  at  the  tent. 

"Sorry,"  said  Carstairs,  moving  nearer  to  her, 
"but  we  are  so  far  apart." 

Lady  Penrose  drew  back  a  little — perhaps  a 
couple  of  feet.  "But  who  is  responsible  for  this?" 
she  demanded.     "Have  the  crew  really  mutinied?" 

Carstairs  shook  his  head.  "I  know  no  more  than 
you  do,"  he  replied.  "You  heard  all  that  passed 
so  far  as  I'm  concerned.  Pope  gave  instructions 
as  to  details." 

"Mr.  Pope  would  never  dream "  began  Lady 

Penrose. 

"No,  no,"  said  Carstairs.  "It  was  real  enough 
so  far  as  I  could  see.  And  I  must  say  that  Toll- 
hurst  behaved  splendidly.  His  behaviour  was  ex- 
cellent. I  was  very  pleased.  He  quite  justified  my 
opinion  of  him." 

"I  wonder  whether  he  knew,"  murmured  Lady 
Penrose. 

"Nobody  knew  except  ourselves  and  Pope," 
replied  Carstairs,  "and  the  ladies  were  only  in- 
formed just  before  it  happened.  This  comes  of 
playing  with  edged  tools." 

"All  my  fault,"  said  Lady  Penrose,  shaking  her 
head.     "I  wonder  you  care  to  speak  to  me." 

Carstairs  laughed.  "I  would  sooner  talk  to  you 
258 


The  Castaways 

than  do  anything  else  in  the  world,"  he  replied. 
"I  am  enjoying  this  amazingly.  And  you  are  not 
angry  with  me  for — for  telling  you — how  much  I 
admire  you?" 

Lady  Penrose  bit  her  lip.  "Mr.  Carstairs,"  she 
said  entreatingly,  "if  you  only  knew  what  ears 
Mudge  has  got!" 

"I  understand,"  said  Carstairs,  as  he  moved 
closer  and  led  her  along  the  beach.  "Let's  see 
how  far  she  can  hear." 

Their  voices  died  away  in  the  distance,  and  Miss 
Mudge,  watching  them  from  the  tent,  thought  sadly 
of  Mr.  Markham,  Mr.  Biggs,  a  young  man  in  the 
general  shop  at  Berstead,  and  three  members  of 
the  crew. 


259 


CHAPTER  XX 

MR.  TARN,  somewhat  overcome  at  the 
success  of  his  leadership,  stood  in  the 
saloon  surveying  his  helpless  victims. 
The  truculence  had  faded  from  his  face,  and  given 
way  to  an  expression  of  acute  uneasiness.  He  had 
got  to  the  end  of  his  tether,  and  was  now  looking 
anxiously  round  in  search  of  a  prompter. 

"We  don't  want  any  more  violence,"  said  Knight, 
with  a  warning  glance  at  him.  "These  ladies  had 
better  go  to  the  drawing-room." 

"As  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  desperado  mildly. 

"And  don't  play  with  us,"  proceeded  Knight, 
winking  at  him.  "It's  bad  enough  to  be  in  your 
power  without  being  played  with  like  a  cat  with 
a  mouse.  We  don't  want  any  of  your  infernal 
sarcasm." 

"My  wot?"  said  the  amazed  boatswain,  as  the 
ladies  departed  under  escort. 

"I'm  surprised  at  you,  Tarn,"  said  Pope,  in  a 
deep  voice.  "It'll  be  penal  servitude  for  you  for 
this." 

"Or  hanging,"  said  Talwyn  grimly. 
260 


The  Castaways 

The  unfortunate  boatswain  looked  round  implor- 
ingly. 

"It's  no  good  using  hard  words,"  said  Knight, 
turning  on  Pope.  "We've  got  to  make  the  best 
of  things." 

"And  keep  this  pirate  in  a  good  humour,"  added 
the  doctor,  in  a  low  voice.  "Just  get  Talwyn  and 
Peplow  away  while  I  reason  with  him.  I  think  I 
understand  his  mentality.  There's  no  objection  to 
these  gentlemen  going  on  deck,  I  suppose  ?"  he  said, 
turning  to  Mr.  Tarn. 

"O'  course  not,"  said  that  gentleman  effusively. 
"So  long  as  they  behave  theirselves,"  he  added 
ferociously  as  Knight  glanced  at  him. 

He  stood  tugging  at  his  moustache  and  rolling 
his  eyes  as  Pope,  in  a  stately  fashion,  departed  with 
his  friends.  Then  his  face  relaxed  and  he  gazed 
piteously  at  Knight. 

"Wot  about  the  skipper,  sir?"  he  inquired  desper- 
ately. 

"What  about  him?"  inquired  Knight  easily. 
"He's  fast  enough,  isn't  he?" 

"He's  fast  enough,  sir,"  conceded  the  boatswain, 
"and  Brown  is  standing  on  guard  over  him  with 
the  cook's  chopper.     But  wot's  to  be  done  now?" 

Knight  shook  his  head.  "You  are  in  charge," 
he  said  slowly.     "I  know  all  about  it.     You  have 

261 


The  Castaways 

had    your    instructions    from    Mr.    Pope    and    the 
skipper,  haven't  you?" 

"In  a  roundabout  way,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Tarn; 
"but  you  heard  wot  Mr.  Pope  said  about  penal 
servitood  just  now." 

"Only  his  fun;  he  has  got  to  keep  up  appear- 
ances," said  Knight. 

"And  I  don't  like  the  way  the  skipper  looks  at 
me,"  pursued  Mr.  Tarn,  in  an  aggrieved  voice. 

"Keeping  up  appearances,"  said  Knight  again. 
"What  are  you  worrying  about?  He  told  you  to 
pretend  to  head  a  mutiny,  didn't  he?" 

Mr.  Tarn  nodded.  "And  he  told  the  officers  not 
to  interfere,"  he  said,  seeking  to  comfort  himself. 
"And  then  Mr.  Pope  told  me ;  and  then  Biggs  come 
along  and  told  me  to  do  things  that  Mr.  Pope  and 
the  skipper  didn't  want  to  tell  me  themselves.  I  tell 
you,  I'm  fair  muddled  up  with  it  all." 

"You're  on  velvet,"  said  Knight  definitely. 

"Well,  I  wish  I  was  off  of  it,"  retorted  the  boat- 
swain. "And  wot  I  want  to  know  is,  wot's  to  be 
done  now?  The  first  officer  is  shut  up  in  his  cabin 
and  laying  on  'is  back  smoking;  Captain  Tollhurst 
is  shut  up  in  his  cabin  calling  out  for  his  boots  and 
'is  firearms,  wot  we  took  away  from  'im;  and  the 
skipper  looks  as  if  he  might  'ave  a  fit  at  any  mo- 
ment." 

262 


The  Castaways 

"I  should  carry  on  if  I  were  you,"  said  Knight 
thoughtfully.  "Take  us  for  a  little  cruise  in  the 
neighbourhood,  and  return  to  the  island  to-morrow 
and  pick  up  Mr.  Carstairs  and  the  others.  And 
mind,  whatever  you  do,  don't  take  any  notice  of 
anything  Mr.  Pope  says,  he  has  got  to  go  on  pre- 
tending, you  know.  He  is  not  supposed  to  know 
anything  about  it.  Let's  go  up  and  see  whether 
the  boat  is  back  yet." 

He  followed  the  boatswain  on  deck  just  as  the 
boat  came  alongside.  Mr.  Minns,  the  second  officer, 
with  an  odd  grin  on  his  good-tempered  face,  was 
gazing  in  a  speculative  fashion  at  the  skipper  and 
the  uneasy-looking  seaman  who  stood  guard  over 
him  with  the  chopper. 

"Skipper  plays  his  part  well,"  said  Knight  in  a 
low  voice. 

Mr.  Minns,  after  a  quick  glance  at  him,  nodded. 
"How  many  of  you  are  in  this?"  he  inquired.  "And 
what's  the  next  thing?  Do  you  scuttle  the  ship,  or 
burn  it?  It's  all  in  the  day's  work.  Don't  mind 
me. 

Knight  shook  his  head.  "I'm  not  sure,"  he  said 
slowly.  "I  imagine  the  skipper  has  got  his  instruc- 
tions. He  doesn't  look  very  comfortable;  but  I 
suppose  we  had  better  leave  him  alone.  If  he  were 
released  he  would  have  to  do  something  for  the 

263 


The  Castaways 

sake  of  appearances  to  get  charge  of  his  ship  again." 

"I'm  not  going  to  release  him,  if  that's  what  you 
are  driving  at,"  said  Mr.  Minns  hastily.  "He  told 
me  I  wasn't  to  interfere;  and  I  obey  orders.  If 
anybody  had  told  me  that  the  old  man  would  let 
himself  be  handled  like  this  I  wouldn't  have  be- 
lieved him.  Where's  the  pleasure  in  it?  That's 
what  I  want  to  know.     Where's  the  pleasure?" 

He  went  back  to  the  bridge,  stopping  on  the  way 
to  receive  instructions  from  a  boatswain  whose  man- 
ner was  an  unhappy  compromise  between  truculence 
and  deference.  The  doctor  came  on  deck  as  the 
yacht  got  under  way  again,  and,  walking  with  Knight 
past  the  skipper,  took  careful  stock  of  that  hapless 
mariner. 

"Vobster's  got  to  be  untied,"  he  said,  as  soon 
as  they  were  out  of  earshot.  "It's  no  position  for 
a  man  of  his  years  and  temper;  he'll  burst  some- 
thing if  he  has  much  more  of  it.  Tell  Tarn  to 
take  that  fool  with  the  chopper  away,  and  leave  me 
a  clear  deck." 

He  went  below  to  his  cabin  and  then  to  the 
smoke-room  and  mixed  a  long  whiskey  and  soda. 
The  ice  in  the  tumbler  tinkled  pleasantly  as  he  came 
out  on  deck  and  in  a  stealthy  fashion  made  his 
way  to  the  pinioned  Vobster  and  sat  down  beside 
him. 

264 


The  Castaways 

"Easy  does  it,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "If  I 
undo  your  mouth,  will  you  promise  not  to  make 
a  noise?" 

The  skipper,  with  his  eyes  glued  to  the  tumbler, 
nodded  vigorously,  and  Maloney,  with  a  cautious 
look  around,  took  off  the  gag  and  held  the  tumbler 
to  his  lips.  Slowly  the  skipper's  head  tilted  back- 
wards until  not  a  drop  of  the  precious  fluid  re- 
mained. 

"Good?"  inquired  the  doctor,  placing  the  glass 
on  the  deck. 

"Splendid,"  murmured  Vobster.  "Cut  these 
things  away.  Quick!  Cut  these — cut  these — cut — 
cut " 

"Bless  my  soul,"  said  Maloney,  with  a  grin  as 
Knight  came  up.     "He's  gone  to  sleep." 

He  took  out  his  knife  and  cut  the  bonds,  and, 
the  skipper  being  unable  to  do  it  for  himself, 
straightened  out  his  legs  for  him,  and  lowered  his 
head  to  the  deck.  Then  he  signalled  to  Mr.  Tarn, 
who,  in  a  state  of  some  trepidation,  was  watching 
the  proceedings  from  afar  off. 

"Get  two  or  three  of  the  hands  and  have  him 
carried  to  bed,"  he  said,  as  the  boatswain  came  up. 
"He's  tired." 

"Yessir,"  said  Mr.  Tarn  doubtfully.  "And  sup- 
pose he  wakes  up  while  they  are  a-carrying  of  'im?" 

265 


The  Castaways 

"He  won't,"  said  the  doctor. 

"But  s'pose  he  does?"  persisted  the  other. 

The  doctor  rose  to  his  feet  and  advanced  on  the 
boatswain,  who  backed  hastily. 

"D'ye  doubt  my  skill,  you  imitation  pirate?"  he 
demanded  wrathfully.  "Take  him  below,  and  look 
sharp  about  it." 

He  lent  the  procession  his  moral  support  by 
accompanying  it  below  and  adjuring  it  in  forcible 
terms  when  it  allowed  the  skipper's  head  to  come 
into  violent  contact  with  the  side  of  his  bunk.  The 
boatswain  saw  fit  to  regard  the  incident  in  a  favour- 
able light. 

"Sleeping  beautiful,"  he  said,  with  an  admiring 
glance  at  the  doctor.  "I — I  wonder  whether  Cap- 
tain Tollhurst  is  thirsty?" 

The  doctor,  who  was  removing  the  skipper's 
clothes  preparatory  to  putting  him  to  bed,  looked 
up,  and  under  the  awful  witchery  of  his  glance 
Mr.  Tarn,  muttering  broken  apologies,  backed  out 
of  the  cabin  and  made  his  escape. 

By  the  time  Maloney  reached  the  deck  again  the 
island  had  almost  disappeared,  the  tops  of  one  or 
two  palms  being  the  only  things  in  sight.  In  a 
short  time  they  also  vanished. 

"I  suppose  Minns  will  be  able  to  find  it  again," 
he  said,  turning  to  Knight. 

266 


The  Castaways 

"He'll  have  to,"  was  the  reply. 

Maloney  took  his  arm  and  paced  him  up  and 
down  the  deserted  deck.  The  third  officer,  who 
was  in  a  state  of  sulky  amazement,  eyed  them  curi- 
ously as  he  passed  on  his  way  to  the  bridge. 

"And  what  do  you  expect  to  get  out  of  all  this?" 
inquired  the  doctor  at  last. 

Knight  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "They  wanted 
a  mutiny,"  he  said,  "and  I  have  given  it  to  them. 
Also  I  have  paid  off  a  little  bit  of  my  score  to 
Lady  Penrose.  She  got  up  the  mutiny  to  take  a 
rise  out  of  Tollhurst,  and  instead  of  that  she  is 
made  the  victim  of  her  own  cleverness.  Think  how 
awkward  it  will  be  for  her  when  she  comes  aboard 
again.  She  has  got  to  sail  all  the  way  home  with 
Tollhurst  and  the  other  people.  She'll  see  the  joke 
in  the  face  of  every  member  of  the  crew,  and  I 
think  she  will  be  much  too  quiet  and  subdued  to 
interfere  with  me  much." 

"Upon  my  word!"  began  the  doctor,  staring  at 
him. 

"And  the  story  will  follow  her  home,"  continued 
Knight,  "with  improvements,  probably.  She  will  be 
credited  with  having  tried  to  kidnap  Carstairs." 

"I  ought  to  have  stopped  it,"  said  Maloney,  shak- 
ing his  head. 

267 


The  Castaways 

"That's  what  will  happen  unless  some  good 
angel  intervenes,"  Knight  went  on. 

"Are  you  the  good  angel?"  inquired  the  other 
crisply. 

Knight  nodded.  "I  might  be,  if  it's  made  worth 
my  while,"  he  replied.  "I  think  I  can  handle  the 
situation  all  right.  As  a  preliminary  I  have  just 
picked  the  skipper's  pocket.  Pope  told  me  of  a 
little  paper  authorising  the  old  man  to  permit  the 
mutiny,  which  I  thought  might  come  in  useful. 
Anyway,  it's  safer  with  me." 

"We're  a  nice  couple,"  said  Maloney,  with  a 
grin.  "I  hocus  the  man's  drink  and  you  go  through 
his  trouser  pockets.  If  other  things  fail  we  might 
go  into  partnership." 

"To-morrow  morning,"  said  Knight  thought- 
fully, "I  propose  to  take  possession  of  the  ship  and 
go  back  and  rescue  the  victims.  If  they  are  not 
grateful — as  grateful  as  I  think  they  ought  to  be — 
I  shall  have  to  talk  to  them  plainly.  And  now  let 
us  go  and  reassure  the  ladies." 

They  found  the  ladies  in  the  drawing-room  with 
Pope,  Talwyn,  and  Peplow  vainly  endeavouring  to 
explain  a  position  that  none  of  them  understood. 
A  little  exclamation  of  joy  from  Mrs.  Ginnell 
greeted  their  entrance. 

"Now  tell  us  all  about  it,"  she  said,  making  room 
268 


The  Castaways 

for  Knight  to  sit  beside  her.  "I'm  sure  you  know. 
Has  something  gone  wrong?  Mr.  Pope  is  a  per- 
fect sphinx." 

"Not  my  fault,"  grumbled  Pope. 

"But  you  knew  something  about  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Jardine.  "You  told  us  not  to  be  frightened,  and 
that  the  men  were  going  to  act  a  little  play  to  us. 
How  did  you  know  about  it?" 

"Play!"  exclaimed  Knight  and  the  doctor  together 
in  surprised  accents. 

"I  can't  explain,"  said  Pope.  "It  is  a  secret.  I 
must  see  Vobster  first." 

"Vobster's  asleep,"  said  the  doctor.  "I'm  treat- 
ing him,  and  I  won't  have  him  d'sturbed.  But  what 
do  you  mean  by  'play'?" 

"I  can't  tell  you,"  said  Pope,  with  a  worried  look. 

"If  Pope  has  passed  his  word,"  said  Knight, 
with  a  benignant  glance  at  that  gentleman,  "you 
may  as  well  give  it  up.  Wild  horses  wouldn't  in- 
duce him  to  break  his  word." 

"And  I  am  almost  as  much  in  the  dark  as  you 
are,"  said  Pope  earnestly. 

"Almost!"  repeated  Mrs.  Jardine,  in  a  significant 
voice.  "Was  it  part  of  the  play  to  leave  Mr. 
Carstairs  and  the  others  on  a  desert  island?" 

"And  knock  Captain  Tollhurst  down?"  added 
Miss  Flack. 

269 


The  Castaways 

"And  frighten  us  all  to  death?"  said  Miss 
Blake,  with  a  laudable  attempt  to  suit  her  expres- 
sion to  her  words. 

Mr.  Pope  smiled  wanly,  and,  to  the  indignation 
of  the  company,  edged  slowly  towards  the  door 
and  disappeared.  Mrs.  Jardine  and  Miss  Flack 
exchanged  glances. 

"Most  mysterious,"  said  the  former. 

"Most,"  said  Miss  Flack,  with  a  little  shiver. 

"We  must  make  the  best  of  it,"  said  Knight, 
with  an  air  of  pious  resignation,  as  he  left  Mrs. 
Ginnell  and  took  a  seat  next  to  Miss  Seacombe. 
"Nobody  is  injured,  and  the  crew  seem  to  me  to 
be  unusually  civil  in  the  circumstances." 

"Civil!"  said  Talwyn,  starting  up.  "Civil  1 
There  is  an  armed  sentry  over  Tollhurst's  door, 
and  when  I  went  there  just  now  he  ordered  me 
off.  When  I  demurred  he  asked  me  whether  I 
wanted  one  in  the  ha — ha — bread-basket!" 

He  looked  round  indignantly  as  Maloney,  with 
an  odd,  spluttering  noise,  made  a  dive  for  the  door- 
way and  disappeared. 

"How  dreadful,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine,  turning 
sympathetically  to  Talwyn. 

"It  is,"  said  Knight.  "There  are  five  ladies  here, 
and  they  all  seem  to  understand  the  meaning  of 

the  word.     In  my  young  days " 

270 


The  Castaways 

"This  is  no  time  for  flippancy,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Jardine,  drawing  herself  up.  "It  is  most  serious. 
I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  to  think.  Surely  the 
crew  are  not  going  to  leave  Lady  Penrose  and 
Mr.  Carstairs  on  that  island  to  starve?" 

"Or  draw  lots,"  said  Mr.  Peplow,  in  a  sepulchral 
voice. 

Mrs.  Jardine  swung  round  in  her  chair  and,  put- 
ting up  her  glasses,  stared  him  back  into  the  silence 
from  which  he  had  emerged. 

Dinner  was  a  somewhat  dreary  function  that 
evening,  but  it  was  reassuring  to  find  that,  so  far 
as  the  ship  was  concerned,  the  usual  routine  was 
maintained.  The  waiters  went  about  their  work 
as  though  they  had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing 
as  a  mutiny;  and  Markham,  somewhat  paler  of 
face  and  tighter  of  lip  than  usual,  presided  with  his 
accustomed  efficiency. 

After  the  well-lighted  saloon  and  the  cheerful- 
ness engendered  by  a  comfortable  meal  the  deck 
seemed  dark  and  sinister.  Even  Knight,  pacing  up 
and  down  with  Maloney,  confessed  to  a  slight  feel- 
ing of  uneasiness  as  he  peered  into  the  darkness 
and  thought  of  the  loneliness  of  the  island  beyond. 

"We  are  not  a  great  distance  away,"  he  said, 
"and  to-morrow  we'll  have  them  safe  and  sound 
aboard  again." 

271 


The  Castaways 

"Man  proposes" — said  the  doctor  comfortably. 
"Meantime  I'll  go  and  have  a  look  at  my  patient. 
I  don't  want  him  to  get  up  too  soon,  and  undo  all 
the  good  I've  done  him;  it  might  lead  to  complica- 
tions." 

With  the  advent  of  a  bright,  clear  morning 
Knight's  misgivings,  never  very  profound,  faded 
away.  The  air  was  clean  and  exhilarating,  and 
in  a  cheerful  mood  he  paced  the  deck  waiting  for 
the  sound  of  the  breakfast  bell.  One  by  one  most 
of  his  fellow-voyagers  appeared  from  below,  and 
after  vain  speculations  as  to  the  state  of  affairs 
obeyed  the  summons  of  the  bell  and  trooped  down 
to  the  saloon. 

"We  seem  to  be  a  small  party,"  said  Mrs.  Jar- 
dine,  looking  around.  "Where's  Sir  Edward  and 
Mr.  Peplow?" 

Knight  shook  his  head.  "Overslept  themselves, 
perhaps,"   he   said,   stirring  his  coffee. 

"We  were  rather  late  last  night,"  said  Pope, 
"and  perhaps  they  slept  badly.     I  did." 

It  appeared  that  everybody  had  slept  badly,  ex- 
cept those  that  hadn't  slept  at  all,  and  Miss  Flack 
was  just  in  the  midst  of  a  harrowing  recital  of 
her  experiences  with  insomnia  when  Mrs.  Jardine, 
with  a  sharp  exclamation,  held  up  her  hand. 

272 


The  Castaways 

"What's  that  noise?"  she  demanded  quickly. 
"It  sounds  like  Captain  Tollhurst." 

There  was  no  doubt  of  it.  The  captain's 
voice,  hard  and  commanding,  sounded  from  above. 
Hoarse  shouts  were  heard  in  reply,  and  as  Knight 
swung  his  chair  round  preparatory  to  rising  a  couple 
of  seamen  descended  the  stairway  at  a  bound  and, 
after  a  wild  look  around  the  saloon,  dived  hastily 
beneath  the  table.  Mrs.  Jardine  rose  with  a  faint 
scream  as  Talwyn  came  running  down  with  a  rifle. 

"Come  out!"  he  shouted.  "If  you're  not  out 
before  I  count  ten  I'll  shoot." 

On  the  stroke  of  five  the  two  men  came  out  on 
all  fours,  and  under  orders  from  Talwyn  preceded 
him  upstairs  with  their  arms  raised.  The  ladies, 
who  had  risen  and  huddled  together  in  one  corner, 
looked  at  each  other  aghast. 

"All  right,"  said  Maloney,  finishing  his  coffee; 
"nothing  to  be  alarmed  about.  Second  act,  I  ex- 
pect.    You  wait  down  here." 

He  bounded  up  the  steps,  followed  by  Knight 
and  Pope,  and,  gaining  the  deck,  stood  meditatively 
scratching  his  nose.  Tollhurst,  with  a  pistol  in  his 
hand,  was  shouting  orders  to  the  red-faced  third 
officer  on  the  bridge ;  Markham,  armed  with  a  rifle, 
was  standing  over  the  fo'c'sle  hatch;  Peplow  and 
Talwyn,    also    armed,    were    pacing   the    deck.     A 

273 


The  Castaways 

wounded  seaman  with  his  hand  clapped  behind  him 
was  leaning  against  the  side,  and  a  yard  or  two 
away  Albert,  still  clutching  a  small  penknife,  stood 
regarding  him  in  nervous  triumph. 

"That  little  wiper  done  it,"  said  the  sailor,  as 
the  doctor  went  towards  him.  "Crept  up  behind 
while  I  was  walking  along  with  my  'ands  up." 

"Take  him  below,"  said  Tollhurst,  in  a  sharp, 
quick  voice,  as  he  came  towards  them.  "It's  all 
right,  doctor;  I've  retaken  the  ship." 


274 


I 


CHAPTER  XXI 

C<"]["T  was  Markham  who  struck  the  first  blow," 
said  Tollhurst,  as  he  received  the  nervous 
congratulations  of  the  ladies.  "He  sent  the 
sentry  to  sleep  and  then  let  me  out.  The  rest 
was  quite  easy — I  looked  after  that." 

"Sent  the  sentry  to  sleep?"  murmured  Mrs. 
Jardine. 

"Hypnotised  him,"   explained  Miss  Flack. 

"With  his  fist,"  said  Tollhurst,  "it's  quicker  than 
the  open  hand.  Markham  knows  how  to  use  his 
hands  a  bit,  and  he  was  in  a  pretty  bad  temper, 
too.  He's  coming  out  quite  strong.  Knight,  you 
had  better  get  hold  of  something.  I  don't  think 
there  will  be  any  more  trouble,  but  it  is  as  well 
to  be  ready." 

"I'll  borrow  Albert's  penknife,"  said  Knight 
scowling.  "Or  perhaps  I  can  find  something  in 
Mrs.  Ginnell's  work-basket." 

"It's  nothing  to  joke  about,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine 
severely.     "We  might  all  have  been  killed." 

"Or  landed  on  desert  islands,"  said  Miss  Flack, 
with  a  shiver.     "Fancy  last  night  all  alone  on  that 

275 


The  Castaways 

little  rock,  beset  by  surging  seas,  I  couldn't  sleep  for 
thinking  of  it,  not  a  wink." 

"It's  all  right  now,"  said  Tollhurst  confidently. 
"We'll  soon  have  them  on  board  again.  The 
bridge  is  under  my  orders,  and  we  are  on  our 
way  back  to  the  island." 

There  was  a  chorus  of  admiration  as  all  eyes 
turned  on  the  strong  man.  Knight,  gravely  per- 
turbed at  this  threatened  blow  to  his  plans,  went 
moodily  outside.  The  spectacle  of  Pope  doing 
sentry-go  on  the  deck  with  his  rifle  at  the  slope 
helped  to  revive  his  drooping  spirits. 

"Halt!"  he  shouted  gruffly.  "Ordah-ums  — 
— staneasy — stan-dat-ease — You  may  smoke." 

Pope  eyed  him  scornfully. 

"For  heaven's  sake  leave  him  alone,"  cried 
Maloney,  appearing  on  deck.  "He's  got  the  darned 
thing  loaded  and  cocked.  If  it  goes  off  on  his  shoul- 
der it's  only  the  funnel  or  a  cloud  that  will  suffer. 
If  he  starts  doing  pat-a-cake  things  with  it  some  of 
us  will  be  killed." 

"Perhaps  you're  right,"  said  the  other.  "But 
I  was  only  trying  to  do  him  a  kindness.  Surely 
there's  no  need  for  him  to  look  like  a  cross  between 
Captain  Kidd  and  Julius  Caesar." 

"It  won't  hurt  'em — they're  both  dead,"  said  the 
doctor    impatiently.     "Where's    that   boy   Albert? 

276 


The  Castaways 

I've  put  a  bit  of  sticking-plaster  on  that  fool  in  the 
foc's'le,  but  he  will  have  it  that  he's  dying  and  he 
wants  to  see  Albert  to  forgive  him  before  he  goes." 

He  caught  sight  of  the  page  and  beckoned. 

"But  I  don't  want  to  go  if  he's  dying,  sir,"  said 
the  boy,  with  a  scared  expression.  "I  didn't  mean 
to  kill  him.  I  just  did  my  duty,  but  I'd  no 
idea " 

"He's  not  dying,"  said  the  doctor,  "but  he  thinks 
he  is,  and  he  says  it'll  ease  his  mind  more  than 
anything  to  see  you.     Off  you  go." 

"What  about  sending  an  armed  escort  with  him?" 
inquired  Knight,  with  a  glance  at  Pope. 

"Better  not,"  said  the  doctor,  as  the  boy  went 
off  with  lagging  steps,  "the  man's  nerves  are  quite 
bad  enough  as  it  is.     Sudden  joy  might  be  fatal." 

He  nodded  at  the  indignant  Pope,  and  taking 
Knight  by  the  arm  led  him  off. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  he  inquired, 
as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  earshot.  "Seems  to 
me  the  man-eating  Tollhurst  has  queered  your  pitch. 
He  has  saved  everybody,  and  is  now  on  his  way 
to  rescue  the  victims  on  the  island.  It's  his  show, 
not  yours.  Still  it  will  make  it  more  awkward 
than  ever  for  Lady  Penrose  to  owe  her  safety  tq 
him." 

277 


The  Castaways 

"He's  a  muddling,  officious,  interfering  ass,"  said 
the  offended  Knight. 

"He's  master  of  this  ship,"  remarked  Maloney 
with  a  grin.  "And  he's  basking  in  the  sunshine  of 
the  ladies'  smiles.  They  all  love  a  strong  man. 
Did  you  happen  to  observe  the  way  Miss  Seacombe 
looked  at  him?     What's  that?" 

"Sounds  like  a  dog,"  said  Knight,  with  a  puzzled 
air,  as  faint  and  distant  yelps  sounded  from  below. 

The  doctor  stood  listening.  "It's  Albert,"  he 
said,  with  sudden  conviction,  as  the  noise,  which 
had  now  merged  into  a  lusty  bellowing,  came  nearer. 
"What's  wrong,  I  wonder?" 

"Frightened,  I  suppose,"  replied  Knight,  as  the 
boy  with  one  sleeve  across  his  streaming  eyes  came 
stumbling  on  deck. 

Maloney  laughed.  "It's  all  right,"  he  said,  catch- 
ing the  boy  by  the  arm.  "There's  nothing  to  be 
scared  about.  He's  no  more  dying  than  you  are. 
He's  been  playing  on  your  feelings." 

"Playing!"  wailed  Albert.  "I — I  wish  he — he 
had  been — playing.  I  wish  he  was  dying.  He — 
he— he " 

"Well?"  said  the  doctor,  after  waiting  a  reason- 
able time. 

"He  was  laying  in — bed  when  I  got  down,"  con- 
tinued the  boy,  "and  he  s-said  it  was  very  k-kind 

278 


The  Castaways 

of  me  to  come  and  see  'im  and  now  he  c-could  die 
peaceful.  He  said  he  forgave  me  for — k-killing  'im 
and  said  he'd  like  to  give  me  something  to  r-remem- 
ber  him  by,  and  asked  me  w-w-what  I'd  like " 

"And  what  did  you  choose?"  inquired  the  doctor 
with  commendable  gravity. 

"I  said  I'd  have  his  watch  and  chain,  sir,"  replied 
Albert,  breaking  out  into  a  torrent  of  angry  sobs, 
"and  he — he — showed  me  a  bit  of  rope  with  a 
kno — kno — knot — in  the  end  of  it,  and  said  he — 
he'd  give  me  that — instead — and  he — he — did." 

He  moved  off  to  pour  his  sorrows  into  the  ear 
of  the  indignant  Markham;  Maloney  keeping  pace 
with  Knight,  resumed  the  interrupted  conversation. 

"Tollhurst  will  spoil  everything,"  said  the  latter 
gloomily.  "Can't  you  get  Vobster  on  his  legs 
again?" 

The  doctor  nodded.  "I'm  afraid  of  ructions  be- 
tween him  and  Tollhurst,"  he  said  slowly.  "How- 
ever, it's  the  only  thing  to  be  done,  and  he  ought 
to  be  waking  by  now.  These  guns  will  go  off  of 
themselves  if  we  are  not  careful." 

He  went  off  to  his  cabin  and,  after  lingering 
fondly  over  his  drugs,  proceeded  to  Vobster's.  The 
skipper  was  in  bed,  but  his  big  red  face  rose  up 
from  the  pillow  at  the  sound  of  the  opening  door, 
and  his  eyes  blinked  owlishly  at  the  visitor. 

279 


The  Castaways 

"How  are  we?"  inquired  the  latter. 

Vobster  sat  upright  and,  rubbing  his  eyes  vigor- 
ously, tried  to  collect  his  scattered  faculties.  In  a 
mechanical  fashion  he  took  the  glass  the  doctor 
offered,  and  drained  it.  After  which  he  shuddered, 
and,  snatching  at  the  top  of  the  sheet,  used  it  as 
a  napkin  and  tooth-brush  combined. 

"Now  get  up  and  have  a  wash,"  said  the  doctor, 
turning  on  the  water.  "Give  your  head  a  good 
sluicing.     Out  with  you." 

He  helped  the  other  out  of  bed,  and,  guiding  his 
heavy  feet  to  the  washstand,  took  up  the  sponge 
and  began  to  assist  him.  A  liberal  cascade  down 
the  spine  did  more  than  anything  to  restore  the 
skipper's  senses.  It  also  restored  the  gift  of  speech. 
Pearls  floated  through  the  porthole. 

"You're  better,"  said  Maloney. 

The  skipper  turned  an  infuriated  face  on  him. 
"What  are  you  doing?"  he  spluttered.  "What's  it 
all  about?     What  are  you  doing  in  my  cabin?" 

"Think,"   said  the   other  impressively. 

The  skipper  spoke  instead.  He  spoke  at  some 
length,  using  much  repetition,  as  the  heathen  do. 

"Carry  your  mind  back,"  said  the  impassive 
doctor.  "Who  was  it  cut  your  bonds  and  carried 
you  off  to  bed?     Who  took  the  gag  out  of  your 

280 


The  Castaways 

mouth  and  put  a  nice  strong  whiskey  and  soda 
there  instead?" 

Captain  Vobster  reeled  and  sat  down  suddenly 
on  the  edge  of  his  bunk.  "Good  Lord!"  he  said 
thickly.     "I'd  forgotten." 

He  grabbed  his  trousers  from  the  floor  and  put 
them  on  hastily.  "What's  happened?"  he  jerked 
out  as  he  fastened  the  braces.  "Wait  till  I  get 
my  hands  on  that  bo'sun.    Where's  Mr.  Carstairs?" 

"On  the  island,"  was  the  reply,  "with  Lady  Pen- 
rose and  her  maid." 

The  skipper  collapsed  again. 

"That's  what  comes  of  playing  with  edged  tools," 
continued  the  doctor  severely.  "There  might  have 
been  murder  done  while  you  were  sitting  comfort- 
ably on  your  beam-ends  unable  to  prevent  it." 

"What  d'ye  mean?"  demanded  the  skipper  with 
a  faint  attempt  at  bluster. 

"We  both  know,"  replied  the  other  calmly,  "and 
out  of  pure  good  nature  I'm  going  to  try  and  get 
you  out  of  a  mess  that  the  master  of  a  ship  ought 
never  to  have  got  into." 

Captain  Vobster  compressed  his  lips,  and,  putting 
on  his  coat,  buttoned  it  with  painstaking  care. 

"Tarn  is  not  to  blame,  mind,"  continued  the 
doctor,  holding  up  a  finger.  "He  thought  the  orders 
came  from  you.     Somebody  took  advantage  of  his 

281 


The  Castaways 

innocence  and  carried  the  joke  a  little  further,  that's 
ail." 

"Who's  been  carrying  on?"  inquired  the  skipper, 
with  a  groan. 

"Second  officer,"  replied  Maloney.  "At  least,  he 
was  until  this  morning,  and  then  Captain  Tollhurst 
retook  the  ship  and  drove  the  men  below.  He  is 
in  command  now." 

The  skipper  took  a  deep  breath,  so  deep  and 
so  heavy  that  the  doctor  turned  instinctively  and 
soused  the  sponge  again. 

"Drop  it!"  yelled  the  skipper,  recovering.  "Com- 
mand! I'll  soon  show  him  who  is  in  command 
aboard  this  ship." 

"Go  easy,"  counselled  the  doctor,  catching  him 
by  the  arm  as  he  seized  the  handle  of  the  door. 
"Remember  that  Tollhurst  thinks  this  is  all  serious. 
He  got  rather  a  mauling  yesterday,  and  the  last  he 
saw  of  you  you  were  tied  up  hand  and  foot  by 
your  own  men.  Take  my  advice :  go  up  and  take 
command  as  though  nothing  had  happened.  Don't 
attempt  to  disarm  anybody,  and  don't  discuss  things. 
Pretend  that  they  are  doing  it  for  their  own  amuse- 
ment, if  you  like.     Laugh  at  them." 

The  skipper  nodded.  "I  believe  you're  right," 
he  said  slowly,  and,  opening  the  door,  made  his 
way  above.    Arrived  on  deck,  he  paused,  and,  after 

282 


The  Castaways 

the  immemorial  custom  of  shipmasters,  glanced  aloft 
before  proceeding  towards  the  bridge.  Captain 
Tollhurst,  a  picturesque  figure  in  white  flannels, 
with  a  revolver  thrust  in  his  sash,  stepped  hastily 
towards  him. 

"Glad  to  see  you  again,  cap'n,"  he  said  signifi- 
cantly. 

"Thankee,"  returned  the  skipper,  continuing  his 
leisurely  progress. 

Tollhurst  eyed  him  in  astonishment.  "Rather 
curious  times,"  he  remarked. 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  the  other.  He  glanced  out  of 
the  tail  of  his  eye  at  Peplow,  who  came  up  carry- 
ing a  shot-gun  at  the  trail,  and  smiled  broadly. 
Peplow  glanced  in  pained  amazement  at  Tollhurst. 

"You  seem  amused,"  said  the  latter  stiffly. 

"Don't  mind  me,"  replied  the  skipper  indulgently 
as  Miss  Flack  and  Mrs.  Jardine  came  out  of  the 
drawing-room  and  took  up  a  position  behind  Toll- 
hurst. "So  long  as  you  are  happy  and  amused, 
that's  everything." 

"Amused?  Do  you  think  we  are  doing  this  for 
fun?"  demanded  Tollhurst  stiffly. 

"I  thought  so,"  said  the  skipper,  looking  puzzled. 
"It's  been  a  game  all  along,  hasn't  it?  A  little 
change  from  deck-quoits  and  things  of  that  sort?" 

He  beamed  upon  them  in  a  paternal  fashion, 
283 


The  Castaways 

and  placing  his  hand  on  the  rail  mounted  slowly 
to  the  bridge.  Mr.  Peplow,  blushing  painfully, 
went  below  and  divested  himself  of  his  gun;  Toll- 
hurst  in  an  unobtrusive  fashion  removed  the  pistol 
from  his  sash  and  slipped  it  into  his  pocket. 

"He's  gone  crazy,"  he  said,  referring  to  Captain 
Vobster. 

Mrs.  Jardine  exchanged  glances  with  Miss  Flack. 
"I  wonder  whether  Captain  Vobster  is  right,"  she 
said  musingly.  "The  whole  thing  is  a  mystery  to 
me.     It's  very  curious." 

"Very,"  echoed  Miss  Flack.  "I  thought  just  now 
that  Captain  Tollhurst  had  saved  us  all,  but  of 
course  if  it  was  only  a  game —  Did  you  under- 
stand it  was  a  game,  Captain  Tollhurst?" 

"I  don't  know  what  he  is  talking  about,"  replied 
Tollhurst,  grinding  his  teeth. 

"Makes  us  all  look  so  ridiculous,"  said  Knight, 
who  had  just  joined  the  group.  "I  am  so  thank- 
ful now  that  I  didn't  succumb  to  temptation  and 
convert  myself  into  a  portable  armoury.  Freddie's 
aspect  was  absolutely  terrible." 

"If  it's  a  game,"  said  Talwyn,  with  chilly  em- 
phasis, "I  shall  be  glad  to  know  who  is  responsible 
for  it.  I  shall  also  be  glad  to  know  Carstairs' 
opinion  of  it — when  he  returns." 

He  placed  his  hand  on  Tollhurst's  arm  and  the 
284 


The  Castaways 

pair  disappeared  into  the  smoke-room.  Seamen 
appeared  from  below  in  ones  and  twos  and  went 
about  their  work.  Mr.  Tarn,  making  a  belated 
appearance,  was  observed  to  be  in  close  and  con- 
fidential intercourse  with  Captain  Vobster.  Judging 
by  his  wriggling  he  appeared  to  be  undergoing  a 
somewhat  stiff  cross-examination;  but  it  was  evident 
from  the  wink  he  bestowed  upon  Mr.  Biggs  on 
his  return  that  he  had  survived  it. 

"All  right?"  inquired  Mr.  Biggs,  somewhat 
anxiously,  as  he  lounged  up  to  him  a  few  minutes 
later. 

Mr.  Tarn  nodded.  "I  told  'im  I  done  as  I  was 
told,"  he  replied.  "When  he  arst  me  who  told  me, 
I  said  the  orders  come  from  'im  in  a  manner  of 
speaking,  but  I  couldn't  tell  'im  'ow  if  he  was  to 
cut  me  up  in  five  million  pieces.  When  I  said 
p'raps  I'd  gone  a  bit  beyond  'is  orders,  he  swore 
he  'adn't  given  me  none.  He's  a  bit  excited — got 
to  talking  about  wot  he  called  my  ugly  mug,  afore 
he'd  finished." 

The  skipper's  excitement  died  down  during  the 
day  and  gave  place  to  a  condition  of  sulky  uneasi- 
ness. Under  the  doctor's  advice  he  turned  a  deaf 
ear  to  all  questions,  and  the  only  satisfaction  the 
passengers  received  was  the  news  that  the  Starlight 
was  proceeding  as  fast  as  her  engines  could  carry 

285 


The  Castaways 

her  to  the  rescue  of  Carstairs  and  his  companions 
in  misfortune. 

"And  I  hope  that  Mr.  Carstairs  will  insist  upon 
a  full  explanation,"  said  Miss  Flack. 

"And  then  retail  it  to  us,"  said  Mrs.  Jardine, 
in  a  thin  voice.  "I  must  confess  that  I  am  very 
curious." 

It  was  the  condition  of  everybody  on  board,  as 
Knight,  who  paid  a  visit  to  the  skipper  in  his  cabin 
after  lunch,  told  him. 

"They're  just  bursting  with  it,  aren't  they?"  he 
said,  turning  to  Maloney,  who  had  accompanied 
him. 

"Let  'em  burst,"  said  Vobster  churlishly. 

"At  present,"  pursued  Knight,  "they're  just  guess- 
ing at  things — putting  two  and  two  together,  so  to 
speak.  What  they'll  say  when  they  know  the  truth 
I  can't  imagine.  Tollhurst  is  the  worst — he's  been 
made  to  look  a  bit  ridiculous,  and  he  doesn't  like  it. 
He's  got  a  cousin  who  is  editor  of  a  newspaper, 
and  I  expect  the  whole  thing  will  be  made  public 
as  soon  as  we  get  home." 

"D n  the  newspapers,"   said  Vobster,   "and 

the  public,"  he  added  impartially. 

Knight  murmured  acquiescence.  "Very  awkward, 
all  the  same,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  "Of  course, 
it  will  be  worse  for  you  than  anybody  else.     The 

286 


The  Castaways 

idea  of  a  skipper  giving  his  crew  orders  to  mutiny, 
and  then  tie  him  up  as  though  he  were  going  to 
play  what  the  children  call  'Honey-pots/  is  almost 
incredible.     Do  you  know  the  game?" 

"You  get  out  of  my  cabin,"  vociferated  the  in- 
dignant skipper.     "Who  asked  you  to  come  here?" 

"With  pleasure,"  said  the  unmoved  Knight.  "I 
merely  came  to  try  and  do  you  a  kindness,  that's 
all.  However,  if  you  prefer  to  have  your  portrait 
in  the  public  press,  with  'Captain  Vobster,  the 
Honey-pot  Champion,'  underneath " 

Maloney  flung  his  arms  around  the  skipper's  waist 
just  in  time.  Baulked  of  his  prey,  the  latter  sub- 
sided on  the  settee  and  sat  glaring  darkly  at  his 
would-be  benefactor. 

"Do  you  a  kindness,"  repeated  Knight.  "If  this 
comes  out  it  might  be  some  time  before  you  get  a 
ship  again.  If  you  can  keep  your  officers'  mouths 
shut  I  think  I  can  get  you  out  of  it." 

"How?"  inquired  the  other,  still  glaring. 

"That's  my  affair,"  was  the  reply.  "I've  already 
cautioned  Pope  and  the  bo'sun  to  keep  quiet,  and  if 
you'll  put  me  ashore  alone  I  think  I  can  fix  Car- 
stairs.  If  the  others  get  hold  of  him  first  it'll  all 
come  out." 

"Suppose  they  want  to  go?"  growled  Vobster,. 
considering. 

287 


The  Castaways 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?"  said  Knight. 
"When  we  get  to  the  island  put  me  ashore.  If 
anybody  else  wants  to  go,  don't  let  em.  You're 
master  of  this  ship,  aren't  you?" 

Maloney  caught  the  skipper's  eye.  "Better  trust 
him,"  he  said  encouragingly.  "He's  the  most  un- 
scrupulous chap  I  ever  met;  but  you  can't  be  in  a 
worse  fix  than  you  are." 

The  skipper  sat  pondering.  "All  right,"  he  said 
at  last,  "have  it  your  own  way.  And  if  you  never 
come  back  I  don't  know  that  I  shall  be  sorry." 


288 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  island  was  sighted  about  an  hour  later, 
and  it  was  clear  from  the  behaviour  of  the 
passengers  that  a  landing  on  an  exten- 
sive scale  was  contemplated.  Boat  parties  were 
arranged,  and,  by  universal  consent,  a  place  was 
reserved  for  the  bereaved  Markham;  Albert,  in 
view  of  his  sufferings  in  the  general  cause,  was  also 
included.  On  these  preparations  the  skipper  be- 
stowed a  frosty  smile  but  made  no  comment,  and 
it  was  not  until  the  Starlight  was  hove-to  on  the 
weather-side  of  the  island  and  two  little  groups 
gathered  by  their  respective  boats  that  he  showed 
his  hand. 

"Not  go  ashore  ?"  demanded  Tollhurst  in  a  loud 
voice.     "Why  not?" 

"My  orders,"  said  the  skipper  laconically. 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Talwyn,  coming  for- 
ward haughtily.  "Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you 
forbid  us  to  go?" 

"I  don't  say  that,"  said  Vobster,  "you  must  do 
as  you  please.  All  I  say  is  that  you  are  not  going 
in  my  boats." 

289 


The  Castaways 

"But  this  is  preposterous,"  claimed  Tollhurst,  as 
an  indignant  murmur  arose  from  his  friends.  "We 
insist  upon  going.  We  are  Mr.  Carstairs'  guests, 
and  if  we  choose  to  go  ashore  we  will.  Pope,  1 
suppose  you  are  in  charge  while  Carstairs  is  away; 
what  are  your  orders?" 

"I  really  think "  began  Pope,  in  his  deepest 

tones. 

"Think  as  much  as  you  like,  sir,"  said  Vobster, 
reddening.  "I'm  the  only  man  that  gives  orders 
here." 

He  turned  away  and  paced  slowly  up  and  down 
as  one  of  the  boats  was  lowered.  Tollhurst  and 
Talwyn  eying  him  defiantly,  went  to  the  accommo- 
dation ladder  and  endeavoured,  but  in  vain,  to 
push  past  the  seamen  in  charge.  Their  anger  was 
not  lessened  when  they  saw  Knight  trip  jauntily 
down  the  ladder  and  step  into  the  waiting  boat. 

"Why  is  he  allowed  to  go?"  demanded  Toll- 
hurst. 

"My  orders,"  repeated  the  skipper. 

The  oars  dipped  and  the  boat  shot  away.  The 
noise  of  many  people,  all  speaking  at  once,  was 
borne  after  it,  and  Knight,  turning  his  head,  was 
oddly  reminded  of  the  mobbing  of  an  owl.  The 
demonstration  was  not  concluded  until  Vobster  had 
climbed  to  his  perch  on  the  bridge. 

290 


The  Castaways 

The  lagoon  was  reached  after  a  stiff  pull,  and 
the  seamen,  relaxing  their  efforts,  took  it  easy  across 
the  smooth  water  in  the  direction  of  a  tent  on  the 
beach.  Four  noble  hearts  throbbed  as  one  as  Miss 
Mudge,  aroused  by  the  sound  of  oars  in  rowlocks, 
burst  out  of  the  tent  and  stood  frantically  waving 
at  them. 

"It's  all  right,  miss,"  said  the  bow-oar  as  the 
boat  grounded  and  the  men  jumped  out  and  hauled 
it  up  on  the  beach.  "We've  come  to  take  you 
back." 

Miss  Mudge,  clasping  her  hands  dramatically, 
raised  her  eyes  to  the  sky. 

"I  had  given  up  all  hope,"  she  said  in  moving 
tones.  "Oh,  if  you  only  knew  what  I  have  suffered, 
you  wouldn't " 

"Where's  Mr.  Carstairs?"  interrupted  Knight 
sharply. 

Miss  Mudge  pointed  to  the  right.  "The  last  I 
saw  of  him,"  she  said  precisely,  "he  was  walking 
along  the  beach  with  my  lady.  Shall  I  go  and  tell 
them  you're  here?" 

"I'll  go,"  said  Knight,  moving  off.  "You  stay 
where  you  are." 

Miss  Mudge  hesitated,  and  then,  seating  herself 
on  the  side  of  the  boat  and  shading  her  eyes  with 

291 


The  Castaways 

her  hand,  looked  out  to  sea.  "Where  is  the  yacht?" 
she  inquired. 

"T'other  side,  miss,"  said  one  of  the  men.  He 
stood  looking  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  perched 
himself  delicately  against  the  side  of  the  boat  about 
a  yard  away.  Inch  by  inch  the  intervening  space 
disappeared. 

"Bill,"  he  said  softly  as  another  seaman  prepared 
to  seat  himself  on  the  left  of  the  attraction,  "if 
you  and  Joe  and  Bob  like  to  go  for  to  stretch  your 
legs  a  bit  I'll  stand  by  the  boat." 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  Bill,  seating  himself.  "Was  it 
very  lonely,  miss?" 

Miss  Mudge  clasped  her  hands.  "Oh,  awful," 
she  said,  with  a  shiver.  "I  didn't  get  a  wink  of 
sleep  all  night.     I  was  so  frightened."  / 

Bill  gave  a  sympathetic  groan.  "I  couldn't  sleep 
neither,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "Every  moment, 
just  as  I  was  dropping  off,  I  thought  of  you  cast 
away  'ere,  and  woke  up  agin,  with  a  start." 

"I  didn't  go  to  bed  at  all,"  said  the  voice  of 
Joe  from  behind.  "I  felt  as  if  I  should  choke  if 
I  laid  down." 

"It's  a  wonder  to  me  he  don't  choke  now,"  said 
Bill,  in  amazed  accents. 

"Or  be  struck  dead,"  said  Tom. 

"But  you  helped  to  put  me  ashore,"  said  the 
292 


The  Castaways 

girl  severely.  "You  were  all  as  bad  as  one  an- 
other." 

"We  only  done  wot  we  was  told,  miss,"  said 
Joe,  coming  round  the  boat  and  seating  himself  on 
the  beach  at  her  feet.  "Orders  is  orders,  but  I'd 
much  rather  'ave  been  told  to  go  up  to  the  mast- 
head and  chuck  myself  into  the  sea." 

"He  will  be  struck  dead,"  said  Tom  with  con- 
viction. 

"It's  all  very  dreadful,"  said  Miss  Mudge,  clasp- 
ing her  hands  again.  "When  I  think  of  that  Mr. 
Tarn  having  the  cheek  to  take  me  up  in  his  arms 
as  if  I  was  a  bundle  of  washing,  and  you  all  howl- 
ing like  wild  beasts,  I  don't  know  what  to  think. 
I  shall  never  be  the  same  again;  my  trust  in  my 
fellow-creatures  has  gone — I  shall  never  see  a  sailor 
again  without  shuddering." 

The  information  was  received  in  pained  silence, 
broken  at  last  by  Bill,  who  had  been  regarding 
with  silent  indignation  the  manoeuvres  of  his  ship- 
mate on  the  beach. 

"If  you  don't  like  that  nasty,  oily  'ead  in  your 
lap,  miss,"  he  said,  in  tones  of  outraged  propriety, 
"pull  its  'air." 

He  waited  hopefully,  but  the  well-bred  Miss 
Mudge,  manifesting  no  signs  of  any  intention  to 
follow  his  advice,  acted  upon  it  himself.     His  min- 

293 


The  Castaways 

istrations,  at  first  gentle,  increased  in  power.  Joe 
winced. 

"You  'ave  got  strong  fingers,  miss,"  he  said  in 
tones  of  soft  reproach.  "You're  making  my  eyes 
fair  water." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  take  that  fat  'ead  of  yours 
away  then  ?"  inquired  the  delighted  Bill.  "She's  not 
wot  you  could  call  hurting  of  you." 

He  took  a  firmer  grip,  and  a  groan  of  anguish 
broke  from  the  unfortunate  Joe.  "Here,  easy  on, 
my  dear,"  he  exclaimed,  reaching  up.  "You  don't 
know  the  strength  of  them  pretty  little  fingers  of 
yours.  You've  got — Bill!  s'welp  me,  you  do  that 
agin,  and  I'll  knock  your  ugly  face  off  of  you." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  so  suddenly  that  the  con- 
science-stricken Bill  went  over  backwards  into  the 
boat,  half  taking  his  fair  companion  with  him. 
Placed  on  an  even  keel  by  the  strong  arm  of  Tom 
she  manifested  no  gratitude,  and,  after  giving  her- 
self an  angry  shake,  started  off  along  the  beach,  fol- 
lowed at  a  respectful  distance  by  four  distressed 
sailormen. 

In  the  meantime  Knight,  having  drawn  blank  on 
the  beach,  had  turned  inland.  His  canvas  shoes 
made  no  noise  as  he  strode  on,  glancing  right  and 
left  until,  beyond  a  little  group  of  coco-palms,  he 
found  what  he  sought.     Side  by  side  they  stood, 

294 


The  Castaways 

looking  out  to  sea,  and  the  intruder  noticed  with 
gratified  astonishment  that  Carstairs'  arm  was 
placed  in  a  comfortable  fashion  around  his  com- 
panion's waist.  For  a  few  seconds  Knight  gazed 
his  fill  and  then,  with  a  faint  cough,  blew  them  a 
yard  apart. 

"Knight!"  cried  Carstairs  in  amazement. 

"How  do  you  do,"  said  Knight  blandly,  as  he 
bowed  to  Lady  Penrose.  "I  have  come  to  beg 
you  to  return  to  the  ship." 

"Return  to  the  ship!"  repeated  the  bewildered 
Carstairs. 

Knight  nodded.  "Everything  is  at  sixes  and 
sevens  since  you  left  us,"  he  said  slowly.  "We're 
in  a  state  of  civil  war  almost.  Tollhurst  got  up 
another  mutiny  this  morning,  but  that's  all  over 
and  Vobster  is  in  command  again.  At  least  he 
was  when  I  left,  but  it's  quite  possible  by  this  time 
that  Albert  is  in  charge.     Won't  you  come?" 

"Come !"  said  Carstairs  helplessly.  "Come!  Do 
you  think  we  left  the  ship  of  our  own  free  will?" 

Knight  looked  puzzled.  "Didn't  you?"  he  in- 
quired.    "Wasn't  it  part  of  the  arrangement?" 

"What  arrangement?"  inquired  Carstairs,  in  well- 
acted  surprise. 

"Why-  the  mutiny  you  ordered.  Wasn't  that  a 
part  of  it?" 

.     295 


The  Castaways 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Carstairs,  glancing  at  Lady 
Penrose.  "And  what  do  you  mean  by  'the  mutiny 
I  ordered'?" 

Knight  smiled.  "Oh,  that's  all  right,"  he  said 
airily.  "I've  seen  your  instructions  to  the  skipper. 
In  fact,  I've  got  'em.  Good  job  they  fell  into  such 
safe  hands.  By  the  way,  please  accept  my  warmest 
congratulations.     I  am  delighted — delighted." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  "I  don't  know  what 
you  are  talking  about,"  said  Carstairs  at  last. 

"Talking  about,"  repeated  Knight.  "Why  your 
engagement  to  Lady  Penrose.  Everybody  will  be 
delighted  when  I  tell  them.  It's  a  ripping — er — 
sequel." 

"Engaged?  What  do  you  mean?"  demanded 
Carstairs. 

"Oh,  sorry,"  said  Knight  coolly.  "I  was  merely 
judging  by  appearances.  I  naturally  thought — any- 
body would  have  thought — they  will  all  think " 

"I  forbid  you  to  say  anything  about  it,"  inter- 
rupted Lady  Penrose  angrily. 

Knight  bowed.  "It  is  all  so  misleading,"  he  mur- 
mured. "You  arrange  a  mutiny  and  are  set  ashore 
under  the  most  romantic  circumstances,  and,  when 
I  discover  you — making  the  best  of  things " 

"That'll  do,"  said  Carstairs  loudly,  "and  we  did 
not  arrange  to  be  set  ashore.     Nobody  was  more 

296 


The  Castaways 

surprised  that  we  were.  It's  an  absolute  mystery 
to  us." 

Knight  sighed.  "It's  a  censorious  world,  and 
you  must  admit  that  appearances  are  against  you," 
he  said  gently.  "It  will  be  very  difficult  to  convince 
Mrs.  Jardine.  She  has  been  shaking  her  head  off 
nearly;  and,  as  for  Tollhurst,  he  is  simply  raging. 
He  got  rather  badly  knocked  about,  and  I'm  afraid 
you  will  find  it  hard  to  give  him  satisfactory  reasons 
for  your  little  joke.  After  all,  he  is  your  guest, 
you  know.     What  did  you  do  it  for?" 

Carstairs  made  no  reply. 

"You're  in  a  mess,"  continued  Knight,  "but  if 
Lady  Penrose  will  come  to  terms  I  think  I  can  get 
you  out  of  it.     Money  returned  if  not  satisfied." 

"Terms?"  said  Lady  Penrose,  regarding  him 
scornfully. 

Knight  nodded.  "Let  me  marry  Winnie,  and 
promise  to  do  the  best  you  can  for  Freddie,  and 
I'll  take  the  sole  blame,"  he  replied.  "Nobody  will 
have  the  slightest  difficulty  in  believing  me  respon- 
sible for  the  outrage.  It'll  seem  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world  to  them.     Otherwise " 

"No,"  said  Lady  Penrose,  with  sudden  vehe- 
mence. 

"Think  it  over,"  urged  Knight.  "Think  of  the 
297 


The  Castaways 

long  voyage  home  with  Tollhurst  and  Mrs.  Jar- 
dine." 

"No"  said  Lady  Penrose  again.  "Tell  them 
what  you  like,  and  do  what  you  like.  I  never 
thought  much  of  you,  and  now  I  think  less." 

She  turned  to  Carstairs,  and,  holding  herself  very- 
erect,  started  to  walk  back  to  the  tent.  Knight,  a 
shade  discomfited,  followed  in  the  rear,  and  they 
walked  on  in  silence  until  they  came  in  sight  of 
Miss  Mudge  and  her  retinue. 

"Well,  if  you  won't  accept  my  terms,"  said 
Knight,  ranging  himself  alongside  Carstairs,  "virtue 
shall  be  its  own  reward.  I'll  sacrifice  myself  for 
friendship's  sake.  You  keep  quiet  and  I'll  do  the 
rest." 

Lady  Penrose  turned  to  Carstairs.  "Don't  dis- 
cuss things  with  him,"  she  said  icily. 

"The  engagement,"  continued  the  unmoved 
Knight,  "had  better  be  kept  secret  for  the  present. 
And  both  of  you  try  and  look  as  disagreeable  as 
you  can." 

Lady  Penrose  quickened  her  pace  and  walked 
straight  towards  the  boat,  and  four  sheepish  mar- 
iners, touching  their  caps  respectfully  to  Carstairs, 
pushed  it  into  the  water.  With  a  subdued  air  Knight 
left  the  stern  seats  to  the  others  and  made  his  way 
to  the  bows.     As  the  boat  rounded  the  point  and 

298 


The  Castaways 

came  into  view  of  the  ship  he  observed,  with  some 
gratification,  that  his  two  friends  were  looking  dis- 
tinctly uncomfortable. 

"No  signs  of  uncontrollable  enthusiasm,"  he  re- 
marked, with  a  cough,  as  they  approached  the  yacht, 
and  Lady  Penrose  shivered  despite  herself  as  she 
looked  at  the  row  of  silent  figures  lining  the  side. 
She  waved  her  hand,  and  her  friends  waved  silently 
in  reply.  The  line  arranged  itself  into  a  little  group 
as  she  passed  up  the  accommodation-ladder,  and  a 
babel  of  inquiries  broke  on  her  ears  as  she  gained 
the  deck;  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Jardine  being  particu- 
larly insistent. 

"Ask  him,"  shouted  Carstairs,  levelling  a  trem- 
bling forefinger  at  Knight,  who  was  coming  slowly 
up  the  ladder. 

"Eh/"  said  Tollhurst  and  Talwyn  together  with 
extraordinary  emphasis. 

Knight  paused  at  the  head  of  the  ladder  and 
smiled  guiltily.  "Just  a  little  joke  of  mine,"  he 
explained,  "to  relieve  the  tedium  of  the  voyage." 

"Joke!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Jardine,  breaking  an 
amazed  silence.  She  turned  suddenly  upon  Pope. 
"Why,  you  told  us "  she  began. 

"I  misled  him,"  interrupted  Knight.  "At  least, 
I  told  him  to  prepare  you  for  a  little  surprise.  It 
was  a  little  surprise,  wasn't  it?" 

299 


The  Castaways 

Mrs.  Jardine  drew  herself  up  and  stood  regard- 
ing him  in  speechless  indignation,  but  in  the  hubbub 
that  ensued  her  temporary  loss  of  voice  was  not 
noticed. 

"Most  extraordinary  behaviour,"  said  Talwyn. 
"Was  it  by  your  orders  that  I  was  hustled  about 
the  deck,  and  that  one  of  the  seamen  put  his  dirty 
fist  beneath  my  nose  and  told  me  to  smell  it?     Eh?" 

"And  that  I  was  knocked  about  and  locked  up 
in  my  cabin?"  vociferated  Tollhurst,  regarding  him 
fiercely. 

"Mere  animal  spirits,"  said  Knight.  "Only  their 
fun." 

"Fun!"  repeated  Tollhurst  in  a  choking  voice. 
"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it,  Carstairs?" 
he  demanded. 

Carstairs  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "What  can  I 
do?"  he  inquired.  "I  can't  have  him  thrown  over- 
board. Better  leave  him  to  his  conscience — if  he's 
got  any.  I  suppose  we  ought  to  be  thankful  that 
nobody  is  really  hurt." 

"Not  his  fault,"  said  Maloney  in  a  deep  voice, 
with  a  side  glance  at  the  culprit.  "If  you're  not 
careful  it's  an  undertaker  you'll  be  wanting  aboard 
instead  of  a  doctor.    He's  not  safe  to  be  at  large." 

"Let  us  hope  he  is  ashamed  of  himself,"  said 
Miss  Flack  piously. 

300 


The  Castaways 

It  seemed  to  be  an  absurd  hope,  and  Mrs.  Jar- 
dine  said  so  plainly.  In  the  midst  of  a  discussion, 
inaugurated  by  Talwyn  as  to  whether  it  would  be 
possible  for  Vobster  to  confine  the  offender  to  his 
cabin  for  the  remainder  of  the  voyage,  Knight  thrust 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  sauntered  off  below. 

His  appearance  at  the  dinner-table  was  the  signal 
for  a  sudden  lull  in  the  conversation,  a  state  of 
affairs  which  by  no  means  affected  his  appetite. 
When  towards  the  end  of  the  meal  he  raised  his 
glass  and  proposed  "Sweethearts  and  Wives"  Mrs. 
Jardine  arose  and,  with  a  lingering  glance  at  the 
savoury  which  had  just  been  placed  before  her,  left 
the  table. 

He  had  the  grace,  however,  to  stay  on  board 
next  day  while  the  rest  of  the  party  paid  a  visit 
to  the  island;  a  piece  of  self-sacrifice  which  enabled 
him  to  compare  notes  with  Captain  Vobster  and  put 
things  on  a  ship-shape  and  proper  footing.  Mr. 
Biggs,  somewhat  scared  at  the  result  of  his  handi- 
work, also  came  in  for  a  little  instruction. 

The  Starlight  sailed  from  the  island  next  day,  and 
the  ordinary  routine  was  resumed.  The  days  passed 
uneventfully,  and  Knight,  left  to  himself,  was  ob- 
served to  be  making  himself  agreeable  to  various 
members  of  the  crew,  a  circumstance  which  caused 
Mrs.  Jardine  and  Miss  Flack  no  little  uneasiness. 

301 


The  Castaways 

They  even  voiced  their  fears  to  Carstairs,  and  that 
gentleman,  a  little  conscience-stricken,  approached 
the  sufferer  as  he  sat  smoking  on  deck  that  even- 
ing after  dinner  with  a  view  of  cheering  him  up. 

"S.s.s.s/"  hissed  Knight.     "Go  away." 

"I  thought "  began  the  other  mildly. 

"I  know,"  said  Knight.  "They  all  think.  That's 
the  worst  of  being  popular.  I  can  hardly  keep 
Freddie  and  the  others  off.  As  for  Mrs.  Ginnell 
I  had  to  pinch  her  yesterday." 

Carstairs  stared  at  him.  "Lady  Penrose 
thinks "  he  said. 

"I  know,"  interrupted  the  other.  "That's  what 
I  want  her  to  do.  Now  go  away,  there's  a  good 
chap.  Leave  me  to  pay  the  penalty  of  her  mis- 
deeds.    If  she's  got  any  conscience  at  all " 

A  grin  of  enlightenment  dawned  on  Carstairs' 
face.     "You  young "  he  began. 

"Go  away,"  said  Knight,  with  dignity. 

The  thoughts  of  Lady  Penrose  materialised  two 
evenings  later.  She  came  out  of  the  lighted  draw- 
ing-room and,  peering  through  the  darkness,  made 
her  way  to  the  lonely  figure  that  sat  amidships 
smoking,  and,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  sat  down 
beside  it. 

"It's  very  good  of  you,"  she  said,  after  a  pause. 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  the  truthful  Knight. 
302 


The  Castaways 

There  was  another  pause.  "I  think  you  have  be- 
haved very  well,"  she  said  slowly.  "Much  better 
than  I  thought  you  could." 

"We  all  make  mistakes,"  said  Knight  ambigu- 
ously. 

There  was  another  silence,  so  long  that  he  began 
to  feel  uneasy. 

"I  think,  perhaps,  I  have  misjudged  you  a  little," 
she  said  at  last,  "and — and — if  Winnie  still  wishes 
to  marry  you,  she  may." 

Knight  took  her  hand  and  raised  it  respectfully 
to  his  lips.  "Thank  you  very  much,"  he  said  grate- 
fully. "I  am  very  glad  to  think  that  my  opinion 
of  you  has  been  justified." 


THE  END. 


303 


"C .SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FAC 


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